


Feel Again

by Trinket



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossdressing, Kryptonian Biology, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22348978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trinket/pseuds/Trinket
Summary: Superman is visited by his future self who asks him the impossible. Of course, he decides to go along with it, until he doesn't. His path takes a very different direction than that of his other self, or even what his other self had planned. Will he manage to befriend Batman, or just make things worse?
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 98
Kudos: 159





	1. Another Direction

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own, nor claim to own, nor make any profit off of Superman and/or Batman. This is just for fun.

Clark’s - Kal-El’s - hands shook as he listened to the news of what had transpired in Metropolis the day prior. When  _ Zod _ had fallen by his hand. Hands that he stared at that could not stop shaking as pain wracked his body. Not a physical pain, no, but it hurt nevertheless.

There  _ had _ been people like himself. And yet  _ not _ . They’d been monsters in their greed. Beings that had to be stopped.  _ Kryptonians _ who had no care for the humans. Had they decided to find an uninhabited planet to do what they’d tried to do to Earth he’d not have stopped them. But they hadn’t cared. Had thought only of themselves. And still,  _ still _ , he could not stop the sound of bone breaking beneath his hands.

Many had died the day before, but only one life had been taken by his hand. 

And then, he’d heard the strangest voice. Like his own.

_ “Do  _ **_not_ ** _ kiss Lois Lane.” _

He’d wanted to know  _ why _ . He couldn’t fathom it and had almost ignored the voice, but it kept repeating it over and over.

So, when their lips were about to meet, he turned his head. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” And then he’d flown away. He could have loved her.

He looked up as a figure, wearing the House of El strode toward him.

“Who…,” the man looked  _ exactly _ like himself.

“I am  _ you _ , but  _ not you _ . Kal-El, Last Son of Krypton.”

“You’re the voice I heard before.  _ Why? _ ”

“To save you heartbreak.”

“What?”

“She’s not meant for you.”

“That is my decision to make, not yours.” But if the Kryptonian before him, was himself, and apparently from sometime in the future, then perhaps things had not worked out.

“While my timeline may remain the same, that doesn’t mean your future is set in stone.”

He cocked his head, brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Whenever a decision is different in the past, it creates another dimension. An alternate Universe or timeline if you will.”

“I see… and I take it you kissed Lois, and now I haven’t?”

“Yes. But there is something else I wish you to do.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “And what is that?”

“Become a Reporter for the Daily Planet. If not that, you should still base yourself in Metropolis.”

“Why?”

“It’s important.”

“Right.” He sighed. “Lois Lane works for the Daily Planet. Won’t that make things awkward?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But that isn’t all.”

He did  _ not _ like where this was going. Even so, he felt compelled to listen. Evidently, his future self wasn’t too worried about Paradoxes, or completely changing his own future to where it might be far bleaker than whatever it was like in his time. “Go on…”

“Speak to the people about your truest feelings in regard to what happened. Apologize, even if it was Zod who began the attack. Befriend Bruce Wayne as Clark Kent. Don’t antagonize Batman, but don’t let him fall too far.”

“Batman? Bruce Wayne?”

His future self shook his head. “I’m not going to tell you  _ more _ . I’ll be here for a few more days. I’ll  _ know _ .”

He waved a hand, “Fine. But this is weird.”

“I know. But sometimes, it’s better to change things, even if I can’t change my own timeline, there’s somewhere where things are different.”

He nodded and turned to fly away. He knew one reporter who, although he now knew not to get intimately involved with her, that would like a scoop.

* * *

The next day, inside the Daily Planet in front of a camera with Lois Lane interviewing him he spoke. He made certain that the video feed couldn’t pick up his actual features to be traced back to him.

“Metropolis, I am sorry for what transpired the other day. I was not aware that I was being sought by my own people, nor did I know what they intended to do. I may not have been born on Earth, but I was raised in the Midwest. My biological parents sent me here to escape the explosion of Krypton. I never thought I would have to fight, not like that, not someone like Zod. I wasn’t prepared. And for that, I’m sorry, because it…” he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, “... it lead to tragedy. I never wanted anyone to be hurt. I did not wish people to die. But they did, and I’m sorry.” He wondered why his future self hadn’t gone that far back to prevent it. Maybe some points were fixed and could not be altered as The Doctor would say when explaining it to his companions.

Not knowing what else to say and feeling like what he had said was inadequate, he glanced down and back up at the camera. “My apologies are inadequate, I know, but it is all I can offer.” He didn’t tell them that he would atone, somehow. He couldn’t Actions spoke louder than words and when he was needed, he’d help.

Then, he heard that irritating voice. His  _ own _ voice and yet it annoyed him because of what he said.

_ “You should mention Batman, but he’ll probably get angry as he likes to keep himself thought of as an Urban Legend, especially outside his cave.” _

Someone else in the room asked a question, which had Lois Lane frowning.

“Are you involved with anyone, Superman?”

He blinked, and then decided to get back at his future self, his other self had interfered, why not make things very different. Perhaps  _ too _ different that it would irritate his guest. “Maybe I’m the Wife of a Bat.”

He watched as eyes widened. Others frowned. Many glanced at each other and huddled to whisper. He could hear every word of course and some of what was said made his face feel hot. So, some of them believed in The Bat, or Batman, whatever they called him. Maybe he was real. 

Lois Lane cleared her throat. “Thank you, Superman.” She turned to the cameraman and indicated to cut off the camera and microphone.

He nodded and once out of the building, flew away.

“ _ That was not what I told you to say!” _

“Go home! You’ve interfered enough as it is.”

“ _ I am going home. I don’t want to be here when The Bat comes calling _ .  _ But I shall stop by first and give you something. _ ”

He wasn’t going to listen to him anymore anyway. He had no reason to be based in Metropolis or the Daily Planet. But nor did he want to be too far from there either. Although, being a reporter didn’t sound too bad. He couldn’t think of some other job that would be better unless it was one that created jobs. Some way to  _ help _ people even when not wearing the Super-suit.

When his other self showed up he frowned at him. “What do  _ you _ want?”

He held out a small box. “Inside this lead-lined box is something dangerous. To us.”

“What?”

“It’s called Kryptonite. It is the remnants of Krypton. It can hurt us, make us bleed, kill us.”

His eyes widened. “Why would I want that?”

“So you know. And as an offering to The Batman. Have him fashion it into a spear, you may need it.” He placed the box in his hand.

“What?” He stared down and when he looked up, his other self was gone, leaving him holding something he couldn’t even open and look at because it was dangerous to him.

It looked like he’d be making a visit tonight  _ if _ Batman were around and even real. His future self could be kidding after all, but he doubted it.

* * *

“Master Wayne, did you see the latest news?”

“I did Alfred,” Bruce frowned, “the alien says he’s  _ sorry _ .”

“Perhaps he is, sir.”

“Or he’s luring us into a false sense of security. He’s  _ invulnerable _ .”

“I doubt that, sir. Everything and everyone has a weakness.”

“And I intend to find his.”

“You’re not going to comment on the  _ wife _ part, are you, sir?”

“He and The Bat have never  _ met _ . I don’t know what that was about, but it’s ridiculous.” His brows furrowed.

“You are worried, are you not, Master Wayne?”

“What if he knows where I live? Who I am?”

“If he did, and he’s as dangerous as you believe him to be, would he not have said so to the reporters?”

“I can’t think about this now. There’s something going on at the docks tonight and I’ve got drug smugglers to deal with.”

“Very well, sir.”

  
  
  



	2. Trust

Clark gazed down at the books he carried in one arm while talking on the phone held in his free hand.

“I  _ have _ taken college courses before, Lois.”

_ “When and where, Clark?” _ She asked over the line.

“Now and then, here and there. Sometimes online.” He’d just had to be careful of how  _ quickly _ he got through materials. Even when he knew things, he’d ask the professor to clarify, just so he didn’t seem  _ too intelligent _ . 

“ _ Do you even know what you’re doing? Do you have a plan?” _

He chuckled as he walked across the pedestrian portion of the bridge between Metropolis and Gotham.

“Yes, Lois. I’ve got a goal in mind, too.”

“ _ I don’t know why you’re doing what you are. From what I’ve read, you’d make for one great reporter. I bet you could even win a Nobel Prize. Not before me, of course, but your writing and insights are pretty good. Could use some polishing, but the possibilities are there _ .”

“I  _ did _ give it some thought. But  _ something _ ,” or someone, “spoke to me and I decided to help in another way. You’re great at your job Lois Lane. If I’m going to report anything it’s going to be freelance. If I do, I can just give the story to you, with sources of course, or post on my blog,” he  _ had _ given it some thought. To become a Reporter. He’d decided against it. In some Universe out there, he was a reporter, apparently. He didn’t want his fate dictated to him after all like the guy had tried to do. His other-self. Yet he’d allowed it in the instances where he had not taken the opportunity to kiss Lois Lane.

_ “How is the security on your blog?” _

“The best that money can buy,” it was one of the few things he’d splurged on.

“ _ What is your goal, Smallville? _ ”

He didn’t think it was a good idea to tell her. He intended to befriend Bruce Wayne, even though after what he’d read made him wonder if he’d in the future found himself a way to get wasted. The news reports he’d read about that man just screamed feckless billionaire playboy. He didn’t know why this was something he had chosen to allow the other him to dictate. But, perhaps there was a reason and while he hadn’t been told that reason, he was curious.

“Oh, you know,” he chuckled nervously. “But really, it’s to help find  _ cures _ for diseases. Maybe even develop a way to regrow skin cells for burn victims. I just don’t know if it’s possible to regrow limbs and parts of the body that aren’t organs. But science is advancing everyday,” and if he still had a way to access the Kryptonian ships, the files, and items like that, maybe he might find a way for the impossible to become possible.

_ “I still can’t believe you said that in front of cameras. You don’t even know The Bat. He could just be a myth. _ ” She referred to his first remark.

“Maybe.” He stopped in front of his building and stared up at the high rise.

“ _ I hope you do find those cures. Still, I don’t know why you insist on living in Gotham while you’re going to University here, either _ .”

“Metropolis University has a great science department.”

_ “Doesn’t Gotham University? _ ”

“My credits didn’t transfer and I needed them to, to cut down on how many semesters I’d need to take.”

“ _ Why not just move to Metropolis?” _

“I’m hoping to work at Wayne Biotech, or to at least intern there,” he offered and held the cellphone between his shoulder and cheek as he fished for the keys to his apartment building.

_ “The commute, Smallville.” _

“It’s not so bad when my place is so close to the bridge.” His apartment was at the very edge of the city limits.

_ “I haven’t heard you taking down any criminals in Gotham like you do in Metropolis. _ ”

“I don’t want to antagonize  _ you know who _ , so keeping a low profile is essential,” not that he wasn’t tempted. His other self had seemed, if not afraid, then perhaps awed, or annoyed by The Bat. “And I don’t get to my place as often as I’d like with all my classes, and…” he trailed off, knowing she’d understand.

_ “Right. Well, I’ve got to go, Smallville. Got a source to speak to, bye!” _ She hung up.

He sighed and stared down at the phone after shutting his door once in his own part of the apartment complex.

Sitting down at the table he cracked open one of the latest books the professors had given him. He was a few days ahead of his classmates, which there were a couple of others who’d shown that kind of promise before. He just had to  _ not _ go beyond maybe a week, or two at most.

Reading the pages, he cocked his head, listening to make sure there was no crisis somewhere in the world that needed his immediate attention. When there didn’t seem to be an emergency he turned most of his attention to his class assignments. He hoped to get them done before night, so he’d have the weekend free - at least from anything to do with University.

* * *

Bruce sat down in his office chair and glanced up when Lucius Fox walked in and shut the door behind him.

“Lucius? Any luck?”

“Afraid not, Bruce. Wayne Enterprises, of course, put in a bid, but the bids keep rising.”

“Find out who is after the alien tech, if you can. Any news on the other front?”

Lucius shook his head. “No luck there either.”

He needed  _ something _ to take the son of a bitch down. Look what he’d brought to Earth. A damn war that humans had nothing to do with. The Kryptonian had probably been  _ lying _ when he’d given that speech to the news.

His brows furrowed as he turned around in his seat to stare out the large windows, his fingers steepled. Something else the alien had said had caused him to spit out his drink in absolute shocked horror.

Which made him wonder if Super _ man _ was a male of his species at all. Yet the Kryptonian hadn’t disputed the title of Superman that a female reporter had dubbed him. “He’s  _ dangerous _ .”

“Perhaps. Although he’s been doing a lot of good since that terrible incident.”

“You sound like Alfred.”

“Normally, I would take that as a compliment.” Lucius replied wryly.

Turning around he pushed his chair back and stood up. “If there’s nothing else…”

Lucius held up a hand. “Oh. There  _ is _ .”

“What?”

“An associate of mine over at Metropolis University has come into contact with a promising pupil with a brilliant mind.”

“So?”

“This individual plans on interning at Wayne Biotech once he’s gotten to that point. I believe we should look into him. Perhaps give him an evaluation and if it goes well, offer him an early internship. Snag him before LuthorCorp does.”

“They’re  _ that _ special, are they?”

“My associates think so.”

“I’d like to meet this person. A brilliant mind should never be wasted.”

“Really, Bruce?” Lucius quirked a brow at him.

Bruce shook his head. “We can’t let LuthorCorp snag him. Probably not S.T.A.R. Labs either. If he’s as good as your associates say, it’s better that he joins one of our departments.”

“Of course. I’ll look into it right away. I’ll see if I can’t set up a meeting between you when he’s not at school.”

“Thank you, Lucius.”

Lucius nodded and left the room the way he’d entered.

Turning on the com next to his ear, he spoke to Alfred. “Alfred, I’m heading back.”

“That’s just as well, Master Wayne. I heard a rumor that someone is planning to plant a bomb on the bridge between the cities.”

He swore under his breath. “You know what to prepare, Alfred.”

“Indeed I do, sir.”

Grumbling under his breath he hurried out of his building and into his car. Strapped in he headed for his Estate and the cave. He wondered how he was supposed to keep his city safe and find a way to neutralize, to eliminate the alien whose presence had brought so much  _ death _ . That had taken so many parents from their children and even children from their parents who had survived.

He’d lost his parents as a young child. He’d lost a son. His hands squeezed the wheel, knuckles white, if only for a moment as he breathed in and out, in and out, slowly, slowly, until his grip grew a bit laxer.

* * *

Once he’d finished his class work, he showered and dressed. His Kryptonian suit beneath sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt. With evening approaching he shrugged on his plaid jacket, slid his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and set out for a walk.

There were a few shops nearby. Half the shops were a bit decrepit, while others were a bit better. By evening, when the sun had set, he stared into one of the shop windows at an aquamarine knee-length dress with a single strap. It had whorls of white, like clouds, or perhaps ripples in water. He wasn’t sure what drew his gaze to it. There were times his gaze fell upon articles of clothing, but he couldn’t imagine just anyone wearing them. He tried to imagine himself in skirts and dresses, but he didn’t think he could pull it off. Of course his gaze would also be drawn to jeans, and anything plaid. Even if he thought about trying what was on display on, there was that worry about what others might have to say. And then, of course, there was the monetary price.

Turning away from the shop window he starred in the direction of the bridge. He’d suddenly heard  _ ticking _ and gulped. He’d paid too much attention to a bit of cloth that he’d missed the group of miscreants planting a bomb.

Ducking into a dark alley, beneath an overhang, he quickly stripped down to the suit with the House of El crest and super-compressed everything else. 

He stopped in the skies when he took note that a dark figure in a strange vehicle got to the bridge and jumped out.

“It’s The Bat!” One of them cried out. The others turned, weapons ready.

His head tilted as he watched him grab one of the culprits by their shirt and punched them when they tried swinging at him.

Then the dark figure shot some kind of grapple at one, or more of the other culprits that had begun running. Pulled them toward him to punch them in the face.

Not how he would treat criminals despite what they’d done. Violence only begot more violence. Made him wonder why his other self had said not to antagonize The Bat. Probably if he commented on his ethics, well… that was sure to antagonize him he guessed.

With the criminals preoccupied and The Bat swamped by them, he swooped down and underneath the bridge and pulled the bomb off. He flew it up high as he didn’t know how to disarm it.

Up and up he went while going further out to sea. The thing blew up in his face far above the city where it couldn’t hurt anyone. He was over open waters and any embers once they touched the water were quickly snuffed out.

Finding the debris that the explosion had caused, he took the evidence back not knowing what to do with it, but not wanting to pollute the water with it if he could help it.

He landed on the bridge just as the Dark Knight caught the last of the criminals.

Two white lights where eyes should be  _ glared _ in his direction.  _ At _ him.

Sirens could be heard nearing.

“Stay out of my city,  _ alien _ ,” came a gruff, steely voice.

“Did you  _ want _ the bomb to take out the bridge?”

The dark figure stiffened. Then turned and ran to his vehicle. It kind of made him think of a miniature tank.

Lifting into the air he followed. Within three blocks The Bat stopped and leaped out of his mode of transportation. “What did I tell you?” He growled.

He couldn’t exactly point out that he lived in the city. He didn’t want people he didn’t know to know his identity. His Pa and even his Ma had drilled so much of hiding the truth into him for so long.

“Intend to kill me, like you killed all those people?”

“I… that was an accident.” His hands curled into fists. It hadn’t been that long ago and it still upset him.

“And how many  _ more _ accidents are you going to cause?”

He frowned. “It wouldn’t have happened at all if they hadn’t gotten free…”

“Free?”

“They were criminals sentenced to The Phantom Zone just before Krypton exploded. The explosion set them free, somehow.”

“If you’ve been here since you were an infant like you say, how would you know?”

“My biological father… left part of himself and his memories in an AI program. That was destroyed by Zod.”

“You’ve got no proof you’re speaking the truth, do you.”

“Well, there’s my Ma, but I’m sure you understand that I can’t tell you who that is.” It would reveal himself and he didn’t think he could trust this masked man. Even though his other self had told him just a little bit more. Not who this guy was. But he’d also sounded  _ fond _ of him. So, maybe he knew who he was, but had not told him.

“You’d think  _ my wife _ would have introduced me to their parents.”

He blinked and scratched the back of his head. “That was… that was a joke.”

“You might want to work on those.”

Remembering what his other self had told him, he asked, “You’re looking for a weapon to use against me, aren’t you?”

“I’m sure I’m not the only one. You don’t belong here. How long before you’re no longer satisfied helping people?”

His brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“How long before you try to rule us, terrorize us all like a tyrant.”

“I’m not interested in doing that. My Ma would be displeased and Pa would be rolling over in his grave,” at the mention of the man he looked down. He still missed the man. Felt guilt over not saving him from the tornado.

“Do you honestly think we should just trust you, like that,  _ Kryptonian? _ ” He spat the last word as if it were a curse. “You don’t even have a damn weakness.”

He lifted his head again, to frown at him. “That’s not true.” He had more than one. His family was a weak point. His friends too. He’d do anything to help them, to protect them, as long as it didn’t mean taking a life. “But I don’t think I can trust  _ you _ with that knowledge. I don’t  _ know _ you. And you want to  _ hurt _ me. Kill me? You’d have a lot of explaining to do to my Ma.”

“Someone needs to keep you in check.”

“Who's keeping  _ you _ in check?”

The man underneath all that kevlar grew tight-lipped and turned to get back into his vehicle.

He pulled out the lead box from the pocket in his cape. This was a gamble, but he remembered his other self and the way he spoke of Batman.

“If you leave now…”

Before he could finish, The Bat turned around and glowered at him. “Don’t fucking threaten me.”

“It’s not a threat. You’re one paranoid man, aren’t you?”

The glowing eyes dropped to what he held. “If you’re going to propose, the answer is  _ no _ .”

“I’m  _ not _ ! And I don’t want to open this myself.”

“Why, what’s in it? Poisonous gas?”

“It’s not a gas. I don’t think it’s poisonous… to humans.” Now  _ that _ got his attention.

“What is it?”

“It’s Kryptonite. Funny thing, it’s made out of my lost planet. I can’t touch it, even though it’s from my first home. I don’t understand why, but it makes me sick, takes away my powers when it's near, and  _ could _ kill me with enough exposure. It’s my planet and its poisonous to me.”

“Show me. I’m not touching it.”

He should have seen that coming. The man probably didn’t trust that he was telling the truth. “Only if you promise not to take advantage.”

“I won’t…  _ kill... _ you. If you’re telling the truth.”

He did  _ not _ want to experience what the other him had told him would happen. Still, he slowly opened the box.

Inside was a green gemstone. But it was of a different world. It made his own skin glow. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead and upper lip.

With the lead box open his knees buckled and he fell to the ground, barely able to keep his grip on the container with the poisonous rock.

Taking a shaky breath he picked the rock up. Where it touched him it burned and caused him to wince. Even so, he pressed the sharpest point along his cheek and a line of red formed.

He’d never bled before Zod that he could remember. Never had encountered this sickening feeling. The atmosphere on the ship hadn’t been as bad as  _ this _ .

The Bat watched him silently while he placed the stone back and closed the lead.

Despite the rock being encased by something that could protect him from it, he still felt nauseous after that.

He looked up at The Bat. “Satisfied?”

“That green rock can do all that?” His gaze, though he couldn’t see it, seemed laser-focused on the lead box concealing the Kryptonite.

“Yes. Can I trust you with it? I’d really rather not keep it around…” he didn’t want it to accidentally open or find its way into criminal hands. If not for the talk with the other Superman he probably would not have been willing to give this to Batman.

“You’re still weak, aren’t you?”

“A little bit.” He stood up on shaky legs, lead box in his hand.

A gauntleted hand reached out, not for the lead, but a handful of his hair. His face mere centimeters from Clark’s own. Clark gulped. Then the man in the cape and cowl stilled before releasing his hair.

“I’ll keep it safe. You had just better not cause any problems. And stay out of my city.”

He didn’t point out that the last would be impossible considering where his apartment was. And then, halfway across the world, he heard terrified screams.

Superman set the lead box down on the ground and then straightened to full height.

“I’ll see you later, Batman,” he took off. People on a ship needed to be saved before their ship sank fully into the ocean. He didn’t bother looking back and so didn’t see the deepened frown, nor the bemused expression underneath the eye lights.

* * *

Batman picked up the lead box. Peaked inside again and stared at the green rock. Or whatever it really was. As long as there was nothing else going on, he could return to the cave and begin analyzing it.

“Sir?”

“I’m fine.  _ He _ gave me a weapon that could  _ kill _ him.”

“Perhaps he wishes to be your friend.”

“Or it’s another ploy to lure us into a false sense of security.”

“By giving you a way to destroy him? That seems unlikely.”

Alfred  _ might _ be right. He just didn’t understand why out of all those in the whole world the Superman had given him the means to end his existence if there were a need.

Taking hold of his cape he whirled around and hopped into his vehicle. He’d have to think about all of this. For once, he’d been surprised. His detective skills never would have come up with what had just happened. A being that many thought was godlike had just given  _ him _ a way to overpower him.

The question plaguing him was  _ why _ and there seemed no answer.  _ Unless… _

He asked the question aloud to Alfred, only once he was in the Batcave and removing his cowl. “Do you think it’s some weird Kryptonian courtship ritual?”

Alfred stared at him, stoic as ever. “I’m sure I don’t know, Master Wayne. What do you intend to do?”

“I promised I wouldn’t kill him. Unless he becomes a problem.” He stared at the lead box. “I can’t think of any reason he’d give me this. The only thing that jumps to mind is what he said was a joke, but he said it on national television.”

“Ah, there is that, sir. Yet neither of you know the other’s civilian identity.”

“Civilian…. You think he has one?”

“From the way he talked about his Ma and Pa, yes.”

“As long as he doesn’t try to unmask me, I’m not going to go looking for his.” He still didn’t  _ believe _ some of what he’d said. That he had a civilian identity seemed unreal when the guy wasn’t even human and had godlike powers and abilities. Still, as long as he stayed out of his city and didn’t cause any more deaths, or let his powers go to his head, he’d leave him be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I would love to hear what you thought of it. DontAskWhy hit Bruce's reaction spot on to seeing that newscast.


	3. Surprised

It was the end of his second week at Metropolis University when some girls screeched as if they’d spotted a boy band.

He winced. Everyone in Metropolis was so  _ loud _ . Louder than anyone in Smallville and they were constantly loud. He didn’t know how their throats weren’t sore. Or how ears weren’t in constant agony. Then again they didn’t have his super-hearing.

He blinked when he realized  _ who _ it was.

“Oh my gods, is that Bruce Wayne!?” One of the girls asked her friend with a giggle.

“It must be, dressed like that,” her friend grinned, “think we have a chance?”

Clark inwardly groaned and placed his forehead on his forearm. As bad of a playboy as Bruce Wayne was, there was always the other side of the coin - gold diggers. And he wasn’t thinking about gold miners.

Someone tapped on his desk. 

“Mister Kent.”

He lifted his head and sat up. “Sorry, Professor.”

“Mister Wayne has asked to meet you.”

“Me!?” His eyes widened. What in the world could that feckless playboy  _ want _ from him? 

“It would seem that word of your talents and work ethic have gotten out. He and Lucius Fox are here representing Wayne Biotech.”

“But… I haven’t been in classes long enough to…”

“Be that as it may, this is a golden opportunity; don’t waste it.”

He nodded. “Of course, sir. Thank you, Professor.” He stood up and got his bag ready.

“They’re in the dean’s office. I assume you know where that is?”

“Yes, thank you,” he did know. He may have met the dean only once on a tour, but with his eidetic memory there wa,s little to nothing he couldn’t remember.

At least it was Friday and he didn’t have any more classes. It was Tuesdays and Thursdays that held most of his classes.

The dean glanced out his window and smiled. Clark could hear him speaking to the other gentleman, “That will be him now.”

Clark knocked on the door and stepped inside once he heard that he should.

He pushed his sliding glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Uhmn… Hello, sir.”

“Hello, Mister Kent. I’d like to introduce you to Lucius Fox and of course Bruce Wayne. They’re both keenly interested in you and your studies.”

Lucius Fox held out his hand and he shook it with a smile.

He turned to Bruce Wayne and gulped. The man  _ was _ indeed very handsome. More so than any person had any right to be. The tabloids and other sources didn’t do him justice.

Suddenly, he was glad he hadn’t worn the nail polish he’d been tempted to put on earlier that morning. And it wasn’t because someone was calling for Superman’s help.  _ That _ always kept him from doing certain things. People had a certain image of him, not to mention it could lead to his true identity being discovered.

“You’re a bit older than I expected a college boy to be.” Bruce Wayne said as he took his hand in a limp-wristed handshake.

He gulped. “I was…  _ finding _ myself after my first time at college,” which had been general studies mixed in with journalism. But it hadn’t allowed him to find himself. Not like wandering the world had even if it had led to some  _ complications _ .

“I see. You had quite a switch in majors between now and then.”

“Have you been looking into me?” His eyes widened as they let go of each others hand.

“One must always look into the background of a potential employee, mustn’t one?”

He nodded. That was true. “Potential employee? I never applied.”

“Perhaps not, but we’re always looking for fresh young minds and ideas. And having heard about you, Lucius here just  _ had _ to meet you and since I own Wayne Enterprises I had to come and see for myself.”

Flustered he glanced between the three men in the room and nodded. “Oh. Well, it’s nice to meet you?” He had no idea what to say. While he had intended on trying to get a job at Wayne Biotech in the future, he had  _ not _ been prepared for  _ this _ . 

“Gentleman, why don’t we have a seat?” The Dean of MU offered.

Lucius was the first to take a seat. 

Bruce Wayne nodded to a chair and Clark blinked. 

The man was kind of a gentleman, but Clark wasn’t a girl - even if he did like a lot of things that others would consider  _ girly _ . Even so, he thanked him with a small smile and sat down.

Bruce and the Dean of MU sat down about the same time.

The Dean placed one hand over the other atop his desk. “Now, why don’t we discuss what it is you’re hoping for here, Mister Wayne, Mister Lucius.”

Clark had thought that it would be Lucius Fox who’d do the speaking, but it was the billionaire.

“We at Wayne Enterprises would like Mr. Kent to spend a week at our Biotech department. First on a tour and then as an assistant. It will be one long practical test. Then at the end of it, Lucius here would like to give him a written test which all of our current employees have had to get at least a ninety-seven percent on. That is if you believe he can do so without interfering with his studies; and if he is agreeable,” he turned in his seat to apprise Clark.

Clark suppressed a shiver at the intensity of the man’s dark gaze. Those who believed him to be empty headed and vapid must not have noticed the gleam in his eyes.

The Dean spoke before Clark could get a word in. “Mr. Kent is a couple weeks ahead of his peers in most of his studies. I don’t see why he couldn’t take a week off.” The man met Clark’s gaze as Clark tore his glance away from Bruce Wayne. “It  _ is _ a big opportunity, Mr. Kent. It’s rare to be offered something like this.”

“I…” he closed his eyes and took a deep steadying breath and then nodded upon reopening them. “I’m sorry, I’ve been rendered speechless by this opportunity. I did not see it coming.”

Bruce Wayne quirked a brow and asked, “Are you going to turn the offer down?”

Clark blinked and shook his head. “No. I’m not turning it down. But surely there are those with more experience…”

Bruce Wayne cut him off by lifting a hand. “Sure. Experience is all well and good, but they’re jaded and are no longer looking for new ways. Some don’t even  _ want _ to find cures, because they want the flow of cash to keep coming in. I don’t want false hopes, or corruption among those working in the fields that are supposed to  _ help _ people.”

Stunned, he stared at the man whom he’d thought little more than some feckless playboy. But, it sounded like he  _ cared _ . Evidently he had  _ layers _ .

“Now of course, I don’t usually deal with the day-to-day grind. I leave the real work and scouting to great minds like Lucius Fox,” the dark haired man nodded to his other side where a member of WE board sat.

Lucius Fox’s lips quirked for a moment into a smile. “It can be  _ difficult _ to get Mr. Wayne to meet with anyone. We’re lucky he came to see you, Mr. Kent.”

The Dean had remained silent until then. “Well, Mr. Kent,  _ are _ you going to take them up on their offer?”

Clark nodded. It was an opportunity and one he didn’t think he could afford to foul up. “Yes.”

Bruce Wayne and Lucius Fox stood then. The former flashed a grin. “Well, how about starting Monday?” He placed a hand in one of his pant pockets. “Actually, maybe make that Tuesday. I hate Mondays, but then who doesn’t?”

That hardly gave him any time at all to prepare. He’d have to stay late that day so he could let his professors know what was going on and to get any materials he’d need if he were to keep ahead of his classmates. Not that he needed to, but it helped to be ahead so when Superman was needed he didn’t miss any deadlines. Except maybe for tests. There was always  _ that _ possibility.

The Dean stood and walked to the door and opened it to let them leave.

Clark followed suit and turned to them. Wayne and Fox both shook his hand again.

Once they’d made their farewells, Clark turned to head back down the hall. There was no way he was going to leave his professors without some knowledge of what was going on. He couldn’t rely on anyone else to let them know, not even the Dean of MU.

* * *

Once in his limousine with Lucius Fox, Bruce leaned back in his seat. “That went surprisingly well.”

“I thought you would have asked more questions.”

“Actions and surveillance give better answers. And I already got a dossier on him. Of course there are gaps between him leaving college the first time and whatever traveling he went on.” His brows furrowed. There was no known itinerary of the intelligent younger man. Just because he hadn’t found a criminal record, didn’t mean there wasn’t one. Clark Joseph Kent could well be guilty of any number of crimes outside of the country where no one knew his name, or anything else about him.

“Ah, don’t tell me, you’re more interested about what he’s done that you don’t know about, than how useful he could be in Biotech.”

“Sometimes, Lucius, you know me too well.”

“I’m sure someone knows you better than I.”

Bruce heard from the driver up front, a familiar british voice.

“I do know you well, sir. I take it Mr. Fox is not wrong in his assumptions.”

He groaned inwardly and then asked, “Where would you like to be dropped off, Lucius?”

“As I have nothing on the calendar for today, I think home, once we get back to Gotham.”

“Done.”

“Also, not everyone is hiding a deep dark secret, Bruce.”

“Then why try to hide from the world for  _ years _ ?”

“You did. Once.”

“That doesn’t exactly help to change my mind on the matter.” He glanced down at the briefcases he had stored in the limousine.

“Is something troubling you, Bruce?”

“Yes. Why would Superman give  _ anyone _ the means to take him out? Other than to gain our trust just to dash it?”

Lucius blinked. “I’m sure I don’t know. Are you certain it is his intent to destroy us? I know it wasn’t that long ago and Metropolis is still reeling from the tragic events of that day, but Superman has been  _ helping _ people.  _ Saving _ lives.”

“How can you not be angry? Look what happened and how many people we lost!”

“Yes. But there is always some collateral damage when two forces go up against each other.”

“They weren’t even  _ human _ .” He ground out, gritting his teeth. The green rock, he’d examined it, but had learned little from it. There were minerals and compounds not found on Earth.

“That’s like saying they weren’t even  _ white _ .”

His head snapped up. “He has lasers shoot out of his eyes, he can bend metal, and bullets bounce off him like balloons.”

“And yet, he’s been here for so long and until  _ that day _ he never tried to harm us.”

“How do we know that?”

“I don’t, but it’s never a good idea to judge someone before one gets to know them.”

He scoffed. “And how can anyone get to know him when he just disappears and when he does appear he floats above us like some sort of god?”

Lucius sighed and shook his head.

Alfred spoke from the driver’s seat as they neared the bridge. A bridge that could have been blown up with Bruce himself on it if not for the red caped alien. “Master Wayne, perhaps you should invite Mr. Superman to tea. I find a cuppa always helps when grave matters are in need of discussion.”

He opened his mouth and closed it. Brows furrowed as he shook his head. Sometimes Alfred had the most ridiculous ideas, but he always knew - or almost always - how to get him to shut his mouth.  _ Without _ actually saying the words.

“Don’t forget, Master Wayne, that tomorrow night you’re hosting a charity ball at the manor. So do try to be presentable and punctual tomorrow evening.”

He wondered if he’d have to disappoint Alfred again, as he always did when there were galas and charity balls. He couldn’t attend them all. Even if he showed up at them, he never could bring himself to stay the entire evening, afternoon, or whenever they were at. Not when there was always,  _ always _ a case to be working on.

“I will try my best, Alfred, but no promises.”

“Of course not, sir.”

Lucius remained quiet and only spoke up agian once he was dropped off. “Thank you for the ride.”

Alfred nodded. “Have a good evening, Mr. Fox.”

Bruce glanced at his watch. It was a quarter to six o’clock. The sun hadn’t quite disappeared. He’d have to wait a few more hours before he could go out on patrol.

“Alfred, can you let me out here, I’d like to take a walk.”

“I’ll wait here, Master Wayne.”

He slipped out of the limousine and walked along the sidewalk. This was one of the less crime ridden streets of Gotham, but it  _ did _ have one of the best places to get coffee and scones. Especially when Alfred was upset with him and would make the coffee a little too weak or too strong and even burn any scones he made.

There were other shops, little boutiques, places that catered to desserts, or dresses, or, “When did they put this here?” very adult toy shops. He hoped no child saw it who walked the street for the dessert shop. But at least there was no telltale sign in the window or door. Except for a mannequin with a blindfold and handcuffs.

Turning from the shop, he entered the one across the street and three buildings down. The line was a bit long, but he had time to spare. Not that he often did. But having spare time meant thinking. It meant  _ remembering _ . And some memories were too painful and too raw to contemplate, especially when out in public.

So instead of letting the memories haunt him, he listened to the whispered words. Not all he could hear, but those he could, amused him. It was better to be amused by their speculations of  _ him _ than to be angry lest that anger give him away.

Fifteen minutes later he finally had his cup of coffee and one scone.

He walked outside with his purchase after leaving a generous tip for the haggard baristas and sat outside. He watched the people walk. Some looked into windows of different shops. A few gathered nerves enough to go into the  _ new _ shop. At least kids were shooed outside by someone.

Bruce picked up his cellphone he pretended to be reading, hunched over the device when he spotted the man. Clark Joseph Kent, walking down the street.

He wondered how he’d gotten their so quickly. Maybe he’d left school shortly after he and Lucius had gone. Or he liked to race cars, or whatever mode of transportation he’d used to get from MU to Gotham.

He saw him cock his head at the new shop, but moved past it to one right across from where Bruce sat sipping his coffee.

Perhaps he could watch him, even follow him to learn what he was doing. See if he had any connections to any of Gotham’s criminals. Not that Clark Kent had been in Gotham long. But he’d found out he was renting an apartment near the bridge heading out of Gotham and into Metropolis.

_ Everyone _ had something to hide. And it was often the most intelligent individuals who turned to crime. Sure it didn’t make sense, but he’d been dealing with insane criminals for so long now it was hard not to see a potential foe.

But Kent didn’t move from in front of that particular store. Something had evidently caught his eye in the window. Or maybe it was some sort of silent communication with a partner, or he was scoping the place out for a heist.

* * *

Clark, once he’d spoken to all of his professors, he’d left the building. Taken the subway with his bicycle and then once he got off biked over the bridge. He then took another subway train and wound up not far from where he currently stood.

It wasn’t the same shop, but there was always something in the shop window to admire. Be it country boy chic, a well made tuxedo for some ritzy party, or a dress. The latter of which was on one of their mannequins on display.

Perhaps he could have afforded it. He’d saved up some spare cash. But it would need to be tailored due to his physique compared to who the dress had been made for. A curvaceous woman. If he had any abilities with needle and thread beyond tiny patch up jobs, he’d have attempted to make his own.

Then there were the looks people might throw at him. Not everyone was too pleased when a man wore a dress. He’d read the stories, had even heard them from people he’d known. Not everyone had remained a friend of his after some revelations. Not that they were foes, but, it was difficult to be friends with those who condemned others for things they really couldn’t control about themselves. Be that in regard to how they felt about their orientation, pronouns, or other things that made that person who they were.

In the window there appeared to be a display for nailpolish, lip gloss, eyeliner, and eyeshadow. Makeup was easier to apply, but then again he couldn’t just change into his Superman suit with makeup on lest anyone should see and wonder. The extra time it would take to remove the makeup was extra time that someone might  _ not _ have.

He’d never told Ma about his longings in regards to things others said were too girly for a guy. Especially a guy who was  _ built _ . Or who had chest hair. The latter was an easy fix, but the former, he couldn’t change his body. He liked the way he looked. Most of the time. Except when he wanted to wear certain things that caught his eye.

It didn’t stop him from daydreaming. Or checking his wallet to count dollars.

Clark shook his head. It was better not to spend money on things outside of his rent, the farm, groceries - not that he needed to eat as long as he had the sun, but if he didn’t, Ma would be upset - and other bills.

With a sigh, he closed his wallet and pocketed it.

He didn’t see the man sitting in front of the cafe across the street get up and walk up behind him.

Clark nearly jumped when that voice came from almost out of nowhere.

“Looking for a gift for the girlfriend, Mr. Kent?”

He whirled around, face red. “N-no.” He blinked. “I… didn’t expect to see you, Mr. Wayne.” But it was a good opportunity, if he was to follow along with what his other-self had said in regard to befriending Bruce Wayne.

“Got a sister, or a cousin then?”

He shook his head.

“You’re mother, perhaps?”

Clark chuckled. “I don’t think it’s something she’d wear. She loves plaid even more than I do.” And his love of plaid had come from  _ both _ Jonathan and Martha Kent.

“I really don’t see then why you’d be staring into that window for so long,” his brows furrowed, “unless you’re waiting for someone?”

“No,” he shook his head. Well, if he was to befriend the man, he’d just tell him the truth. If he found out he was just a big jerk, then he’d forget what the him of that other time and place had said. “I was…”

“What?” He quirked a brow.

“Daydreaming about things I can’t have. Shouldn’t have by some peoples standards.”

“Like?”

He nodded his head to the dress.

Bruce Wayne’s eyes widened. “You? You want the dress for yourself.” He shifted where he stood and stared into the window. “I don’t know if they have a good enough tailor unless they have a large size than that. I’m not even sure that’s big enough for any woman. Probably why it’s on display only.”

“Maybe…”

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to my tailor.”

“I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t be able to afford your tailor.”

“Nonsense. Let me buy you just one dress. I’m  _ curious _ now to see you in one.”

“I can’t let you do that, Mr. Wayne.”

He shook his head. “Call me Bruce. And I don’t have a date for the charity ball tomorrow, so perhaps you could attend with me? Just as my plus one.”

“That… seems like a bribe to me, Mr… Bruce.”

“It would keep the ladies away. I  _ do _ get tired sometimes.”

He’d not read about Bruce Wayne with any men. This was not befriending, this was  _ dangerous _ . “Purely platonic?”

“If that’s what you’d prefer, it’s fine with me. I’ll even double what I intended to give to the charity if you’ll agree to the dress and the date.”

“If your tailor can manage in that amount of time.”

He grinned. “I’m sure he can find something, Clark.”

The way his grin flashed and lit up his eyes nearly made him misstep as he backed up.

No  _ wonder _ the man had so many women vying for his attention. It wasn’t just for his wealth, but in many cases that played a huge part. Not all of the women of course, but there were always that kind.

Bruce clasped his hand on Clark’s shoulder, “Come on, my driver awaits just around the corner. Better to get to my tailor before they close so that you’ve something to wear at the charity.”

Clark wondered what he’d managed to get himself into. But if it were for charity, he couldn’t refuse.  _ Right? _

* * *

Bruce had learned a secret about Clark. There had been no hint in the files about him in regard to what he’d just found out. 

The man hadn’t been waiting for some partner in crime. Evidently wasn’t dating anyone. And wasn’t about to rob the store, even if he’d had that  _ longing _ look. Not like that dress would have fit him, but the man from Smallville, Kansas would probably look good in  _ anything _ .

At least he had a way to keep an eye on him. Perhaps he’d glean more information about him during the ball.

Of course, there was the fact he was taking a  _ man _ as a plus one. No one knew about his preferences, except Alfred and… he didn’t want to think about  _ them _ . He liked both women and men, but he’d never felt inclined to do more than flirt, or a quick handjob. He’d always just thought it was easier to be with a woman. Moreso because of who he was and not wanting to upset his investors.

But, maybe things had changed enough that it wouldn’t be a problem. Well not  _ too _ much of one. And it was just a date. A  _ platonic _ date.

His eyes lowered to the back of Clark’s jeans when the man got out of the limousine once they’d arrived at the tailor.

Bruce knew that just because someone liked to dress a certain way didn’t mean it had anything to do with their orientation. But that didn’t stop the way Clark walked from being hypnotizing.

“Master Wayne?” Alfred called out while holding the door.

He blinked, and gave him a rueful smile and proceeded to exit the vehicle.

“Clark’s agreed to be my plus one for tomorrow.”

Alfred’s brows rose, almost imperceptibly, “That will be certain to cause a stir.”

“Maybe, but times are changing, Alfred.”

“And you with them?”

“Some things  _ never _ change.”

Alfred nodded.

Bruce turned and lifted his hand and nearly placed his palm on his back. Instead he lifted his hand to the other man’s shoulder. “Let’s go in and find you something to show off at the charity.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter. I'd love to know what you think! Also hoping everyone is having a great week!


	4. Tailors

Clark stared at the window outside the tailor shop that Bruce had his driver take them to. It was on one of the well known streets of Gotham City, where the high end shops stood. However as he watched people come and go from it, he realized that it was a specialty store and wondered how Bruce Wayne of all people knew about it. Then again it was nestled between a couple of other stores catering to formal wear for both men and women who wore what was stereotypical for them.

Bruce opened the door. “Shall we go in, Clark?”

With a blink he realized he’d been staring just a little too long. “Y-yes. Th-thank you,” he stuttered. It wasn’t all an act, not when he was  _ truly _ nervous. He cast superstitious glances to his right and left before entering the establishment with Bruce Wayne following directly behind.

Inside there were a couple of men. One behind a counter and another placing clothing on racks and displays.

The blonde long haired man at the counter in blue and white turned and smiled. “Welcome to  _ Ethereal Men _ . Is there anything I can help you with?”

Clark opened his mouth and closed it again. He couldn’t quite get the words out.

Bruce Wayne had no such problems.

“You can,” Bruce said as he brushed arms with Clark and his gaze flicked to the cashiers name tag and back to his face, “Avery. My friend here, Clark, needs something for tomorrow’s charity ball. Either something that fits well, or can be altered by tomorrow evening.”

Avery blinked and then grinned as he stepped around the counter. His hazel gaze trailed over Clark. “Well, darling, you’ve come to just the place. Let’s get you measured and we’ll get you something right nice for the ball.”

Clark glanced at Bruce and the man gave a nod. With a sigh he let Avery lead him to the dressing rooms to stand in the center where the clerk could take his measurements. It wasn’t something he often allowed happen. His mother knew his measurements and did any shopping for him if he needed new clothes. And due to where his money went he rarely bought new and preferred shopping at second hand stores. Unless it was imperative he bought new, but when he had to ruin many of his clothes that became a problem in regards to his bills. But his Ma was always willing to try and fix up and mend what she could.

“Hold out your arms, please, darling,” Avery asked while holding the measuring tape.

“C-could you not call me  _ that _ please?”

“Sorry, it’s a habit. I call all of our customers darling or dear.” Avery said as he wrote down the measurement for his shoulders and arms.

He glanced over his shoulder at his potential future employer and his  _ date _ for tomorrow night. Not that he considered it an actual date. He couldn’t even recall as he tried to think it over again that the man had ever shown any interest in men. Had always assumed the playboy only tried to charm the women and left behind a trail of broken hearts in his wake. Although, just because there were no known men in his life didn’t mean there weren’t those who were hidden. Not that he was going to ask. This was just a one-time date and strictly  _ platonic _ .

He grimaced when the man, Avery, continued his measuring of his inseams. One of the many reasons he preferred not to have strangers taking his measurements. At least they didn’t have the measurements of Superman.

Avery smiled and backed away to write up the rest of the measurements.

Clark quirked a brow when he turned around and caught Bruce Wayne frowning at the blonde.

Avery glanced up and then back at his notes. “I think we may have a few selections for you. Most may need a  _ little _ alteration, but not so much that it’d take more than a couple of hours.”

“Avery, please bring out what you think is appropriate for my  _ friend _ here.”

The blonde nodded and winked at Clark. 

Clark blinked and watched him walk away before turning to look at Bruce who’s frown had deepened, if only for a brief moment. Then the billionaire turned to him and smiled.

“It looks like you’ll have something to wear tomorrow evening. Barring any mishaps.”

He hoped there were none. The only thing likely to call him away was if there were anyone in danger that only he could help.

Bruce walked over to one of the chairs and sank down, his gaze directed at the doors of the change rooms.

Clark decided to sit down as well, with an empty seat between them. Even if the man wasn’t interested in men, and even if he was, he figured it was best to keep some distance rather than to encourage him. His other self had said to  _ befriend _ him, not to find him attractive. Not that someone who couldn’t hold down a long-term relationship was someone he’d even consider. That didn’t mean he didn’t notice his appeal.

“Did you have a color preference, Clark?”

He shook his head, more to cast his thoughts aside than to answer. “N-no, not really.”

Bruce stared at him. Caught his gaze. “Hmm. Some shade of blue or even purple might bring out your eyes. I can’t imagine any color not working for you.”

“Th-thanks…,” he couldn’t think of anything else to say in response. Either the man truly thought that, or he was just being as big a flirt as the playboy had always been - just like the papers said. Then again, he’d been reminded more than once that one could not always believe what was written or watched. Words could be twisted and video and audio feed could be tampered with.

Clark still didn’t know why his alternate-future self wanted him to befriend Bruce Wayne. He had given such a short few words indicating that he should. Yet not really  _ why _ . There had to be more to the man then met the eye. Which he thought he’d seen the smallest glimpse of when he’d spoken to him back at the Dean’s Office. But just because his other-self thought it best he befriend him, he wondered if he could actually trust Bruce Wayne. At least the man hadn’t ridiculed his desire to wear what was seen by society as something that should only be for women.

_ Time _ . That was key. He’d give it time. Learn more about Bruce Wayne. Of course he wasn’t the only one he needed to keep his attention on. There was Batman too. He closed his eyes as he wondered if he’d forgotten something important to say to him, or not.

Just then he heard wheels and Avery’s voice announced his return.

“I’ve found a few outfits that might fit, or are close to it. So if you’d like, you can try them on.”

Clark opened his eyes and stared at the rack full of clothing in an array of colors. He glanced them over, some had sequins, others mother of pearl, and yet others some sort of sparkling glitter. At least two were a silk or velvet material in black.

Hearing Bruce clear his throat he turned his head to look at him with raised brows.

“I believe the burgundy might look good on you. If one of the other choices haven’t caught your eye.”

He blinked and glanced at the rack. He stood up and went over to where Avery stood. “I-I’d like to try the bur-burgundy one on, if you d-don’t mind.” Tripping over his words was the quickest way to place people at ease. Something they’d never think Superman did. Which was why he had to be careful in that persona. Not that he often tripped over his words unless he truly was feeling bashful. One extreme, or the other, and only at home would he meet in the middle where his true personality lie.

Avery grinned and carefully pulled the item off the rack and handed it to him once he’d taken it off of the hanger. “Here you go, darling.”

He managed not to roll his eyes and instead glanced down at the floor before turning to head for one of the change rooms. With a sigh he stepped inside and closed the door and slid the lock home to indicate it was occupied.

* * *

Bruce frowned at the man, Avery, when his gaze appeared to linger too long on Clark as the MU student walked toward and into the changing room. He didn’t know if the blond was just admiring him, or drooling.

“He’s handsome, isn’t he?” He inquired of the blonde.

Avery turned around and grinned. “You’re quite lucky. Those clothes he has on definitely don’t do him justice.”

His brows furrowed. He’d noticed Clark Kent’s physical appeal in his face, but hadn’t really taken much notice of his body. Other than one part his clothing hadn’t really been able to hide. His posterior when he’d bent to get out of the limousine earlier. It had been a revelation, small as it was, that Clark Kent hid behind ill-fitting clothing. Then again, it might have something to do with his socioeconomic status.

“I suppose not. He’s rather…  _ shy _ ,” it was the only word he could pin on him. Not like the Superman who showed off his body in all its glory with that tight fitting suit that left little to the imagination. And he’d seen him up close and personal not so long ago. A being he still didn’t trust, but the alien had given him something that no one else had. Yet. Better not to let anyone else get their hands on it lest they use it to control the super powerful being.

With it, it would be so easy to take him down. Except after being given it, the green crystal, he wasn’t sure he could do that. Unless the alien gave him no choice. The world could not afford another disaster like that. Not that the people living on Earth itself didn’t already do enough with their damn bombs and terrorist attacks. At least one of which Superman had stopped in the past week alone.

Grudgingly, he had to admit the Superman was doing some good. But he’d be keeping an eye on him nevertheless.

“Still, even with those glasses and that stutter, he’s adorable. Pretty surprising that someone with his physique would want to wear a dress.”

He frowned. “And why is that?”

Avery shrugged. “He’s definitely not a twink, and unless I’m mistaken, he’s very comfortable in his own body.”

“One can’t always tell, can they?” He knew some people hid things. Yet Clark had not said anything in regard to preferred pronouns. There were men who just liked to dress like they did. No matter their orientation. However he didn’t know the man well enough for that even if he had files on his background.

Avery sighed wistfully. “No. Still, I wonder where you found him Mr. Wayne.”

Most in Gotham City knew who he was, so he wasn’t surprised. Although this was not a store he frequented, there were nearby tailors that he often used for his Brucie Wayne suits.

“Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it?”

“I can’t blame you for wanting to keep him all to yourself.”

He didn’t feel like mentioning the date they were going on was to be a platonic one. Clark’s wishes after all. But it meant the man was somewhere he could keep an eye on him. Get to know him and see if he was truly a fit for Wayne Biotech, not just in a scientific capacity.

They both turned their heads when they heard the snick of a door opening and Clark Kent stepped out and into the viewing room.

Clark had his lower lip between his teeth and his head bowed.

Bruce swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat as he took in the view.

The burgundy dress had an a-line silhouette with a spaghetti strap neckline that dipped just enough to see cleavage from the man's muscular chest. It had to be muscular to look like  _ that _ . It hadn’t been something one could really see when the MU student had been wearing what he’d been wearing before. 

The dress’s hemline and train were asymmetrical and thus visually pleasing. It was knee length in the front, but in the back it fell to just brush the floor. The sleeves themselves were three-fourths in length and one could see Clark’s biceps as the fabric was see-through on his arms. Most of the dressed fabric was tulle with lace embellishment like red vines and flowers that lightly shined whenever the light hit the patterning. 

“Clark, could you turn around, please?” He asked, trying not to let awe slip into his voice.

The blue eyed man stared at him a moment before nodding and turning around.

Bruce saw that the back was half way exposed in a v-shape. The zipper however was  _ not _ done up. Before the blonde nearby could see and offer to help he stood up and walked up behind Clark - who stood in front of a viewing mirror.

“Let me help you with that zipper,” he whispered against the back of Clark’s ear before stepping backward and lowering his hands to the zipper of the dress.

He pulled on the tab and stopped half-way up. “It looks like this dress needs a little bit of work for the zipper to work right.”

Clark nodded, his face slightly flushed. “Y-yeah.”

“Did you want to try on any of the others?”

“I… I think this one… is fine.”

Bruce nodded and turned to Avery, “Do you think you can get any adjustments finished by tomorrow evening?”

“Of course! It’s just the top. We’ll just find a better zipper to replace that one, or adjust the material.”

Bruce nodded. “Very well. I’ll pay now. If you manage to get it done before the deadline I’ll throw in a large tip.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wayne. We appreciate your business here at  _ Ethereal Men _ .”

Clark nodded to Avery with a smile. “Thank you for your help.”

Bruce caught that smile and then shot a frown at Avery before watching Clark return to the changing room.

Avery glanced at him with wide eyes. “I thought he’d be gorgeous, but I underestimated just how much. Bet he’d look even better without the big framed glasses.”

“They don’t change his appeal,” he grumbled and waited for him to get out of the changing room.

Clark handed the intended garment to Avery with another smile before he joined Bruce at his side.

They went to the cashier’s counter and waited for Avery to ring them up.

Clark stared at the price. “Uhm… that’s a bit much… don’t you think?”

Bruce shook his head. “Nope. It’s fine, Clark. You’ll need it for tomorrow, so don’t worry about it.”

He watched the younger man shift from foot to foot and then heard him sigh.

“Okay.”

He grinned and handed Avery his credit card. Then walked toward the exit with Clark. 

Once there, he placed a proprietary hand on Clark mid back and walked with him out of the establishment.

Clark frowned at him until he removed his hand.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

Clark arched a brow and then shook his head with an exasperated sigh. “Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to this…”

“You’re not going to back out  _ now _ are you?” He asked as he opened the door of the limousine for him.

“No,” he said as he got into the back seat of the limousine and Bruce followed him in. Both of them buckled up.

“I think we should make one last stop. A store that sells all kinds of cosmetic products. Unless you’d prefer a beauty salon tomorrow before arriving?”

Clark shook his head. “I’d… rather put anything on myself.”

“Very well then,” he glanced at the rear view mirror and saw his driver gazing back at him, “did you hear that, Alfred?”

“Indeed, sir. I know where to go.”

Bruce nodded and turned his attention back to Clark. The man looked so different in his current choice of clothing compared to the dress. He was going to stun everyone at the ball. He’d already stunned him and that wasn’t easy to do.

“So… do you have plans for tonight?”

Clark’s brows furrowed. “Why?”

“I have a few hours to spare…”

Clark shook his head. “I still have homework. And there is someone I need to speak with.”

“A date?”

“If it were a date, I wouldn’t have agreed even to a platonic evening as your date tomorrow.”

Well, that at least was good to know. Clark Kent intrigued him. But he still didn’t know if there was something devious he had hidden deep in his background that he’d and his investigators had not been able to unearth. Even if there wasn’t, it was a good excuse to spend time with the man from Smallville, Kansas.

“So, is it anyone I know?”

“They could be. They live in Gotham after all.”

He quirked a brow. “That’s a rather vague answer.”

Clark shrugged. “I’m not about to gossip about them. I don’t imagine they’d appreciate it. I’m certain they like their privacy.”

“Sounds like you admire them.”

He shrugged. “I barely know them. Perhaps even less than I know you.”

Bruce frowned. “Are they dangerous?”

“Some would say so.”

“Maybe it's better you don’t meet with them. I’d hate for you to get hurt.”

“I’ll be fine, Bruce. I can take care of myself.”

“Not if some alien crashes into your building.”

Clark winced at that. “I don’t think Superman would do that. On purpose.”

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean some other alien wouldn’t do it on purpose. And do you really believe in what he said on the news?” He was curious. 

“I look at his actions as well as his words.”

“Ignoring the detail of all those who died because of him?”

Clark stared at him with a deep etched frown. “Do you hate him so much, for something he couldn’t help?”

“Hate… is a rather strong word. It’s difficult to trust him. We don’t know him. We haven’t known him long. What does he want?”

“Maybe you should ask him yourself?”

He blinked. “What? You think he’d just… show up? I don’t have his number, you know?”

“There’s always a way. As long as you’re not about to hurt him.”

He frowned. “Are you…  _ in love _ … with Superman?” He knew Clark was in Metropolis quite often. Due to the University he went to.

Clark’s eyes widened and then he chuckled. “What!? No!” He wiped away a tear of mirth.

“Have you met him?”

“We’re… close, but we’re definitely not  _ like that _ .”

He put that information away for later. Perhaps he could learn more about the Superman through Clark. Although that had not been why he was interested in him. 

Alfred stopped the vehicle and opened their door. “We’ve arrived, sirs.”

Bruce knew that once they were done here, Clark would have to head back to his apartment and he’d have to get ready for patrol later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I do hope readers enjoyed this latest chapter. I'd love to know what readers thought of this chapter.


	5. Helping Hand

Once he’d been dropped off at his apartment complex nearest to the bridge between Gotham and Metropolis, Clark got to work on his class assignments. He liked to keep ahead as much as he could. Be it with reading or assignments, but not  _ too _ far ahead. It’d be bad if anyone got suspicious. Still, he was finished in a breeze on his old desktop in one corner of the room. Which allowed him an early night.

Glancing at the clock he wondered if The Bat were out and about yet. There was still daylight to burn he noticed as he pulled back the curtains not too far from his second-hand desk with its chipped edges and deep scratches on the surface.

He stared down the many flights before taking a step back and whirling around to head for the bathroom to soak in a tub full of bubbles and apple blossom scented epsom salts. Clark didn’t know if it affected him the same way as it did humans. Only that he enjoyed the scent and the hot water didn’t scald him no matter how hot he set it at. Still, it did sooth him. Not that he really got any aches and pains unless he’d had a run in with Kryptonite.

Leaning his head back he closed his eyes for a few brief minutes as he just breathed in and out, in and out. More of a habit than an actual need. It could take literal hours before he needed to take a breath, but he’d learned long ago from his parents that others would find that too different.

Upon opening his eyes he lifted a loofa up and lathered it with his favorite unscented natural soap his mother had made and sent him when she’d made a batch for the Smallville Farmer’s Market. A small, and very appreciated thank you for the money he sent home to keep the bank from stealing the farm from beneath the Kent families feet.

As he scrubbed himself, he wondered about tomorrow night. He’d made it clear it was to be  _ platonic _ , but he’d read up on Bruce Wayne’s history.  _ Brucie _ was a drunken playboy, but something didn’t quite add up. He hadn’t smelt like a bottle of cognac, or any sort of alcohol. And he hadn’t been  _ that _ much of an idiot. Then again some papers  _ did _ exaggerate. Something he’d learned from his time on his school paper back in Smallville and then again from his friend, Lois Lane.

He’d missed his chance there. Thanks to the other Superman who’d managed to talk him into not pursuing a relationship beyond friendship with her. And already she’d found someone else. Not that he’d met the person.

With a smile, he thought as long as she was happy, all would be well.

Setting the loofa aside he poured water over himself to rinse off from a small wooden bucket. He poured the hot water over his hair again and again. Then he picked up the green apple shampoo plus conditioner and lathered that into his hair. 

With his eyes closed again his entire body stilled.

Quickly ducking his head underneath the water he got up and out of the bath. Used his super-speed to get dry enough to put on the suit.

He hoped he wasn’t too late as he heard three gunshots and gasping breaths of terror. Heard the threats.

“Ya’ve stole from the big guns one too many times, kid. The boss warned ya it were the last time. So unless yous got the goods, or triple the money to compensate the boss-man, we’re gonna start shooting yer family.”

The young man paled. “Please. Don’t.”

Just as he aimed his eyes at the gun to melt it with his heat-vision three metal objects shaped like bats hurtled through the air. Each one clinking against a gun of three of the four other criminals.

The first one yelped and dropped the gun as it melted and heated up in his gloved hands. Gloves that weren’t made to handle even the heat from an oven let alone heat-vision.

“What the fuck!?” The culprit groused as he kicked his gun. 

“It’s the Bat!” The three who’d lost their guns thanks to the small metal weapons leaving deep scratches on their trigger hands cried out. Clark grimaced as he smelt fresh urine. One of them had urinated all over themselves before running.

He landed in front of their path. They gasped, “Superman!?” Which had them turning back around only to have some kind of rope wrapped around them and tied by Gotham’s so called boogeyman. 

“What are  _ you _ doing here, alien? I can handle this on my own.”

“You’re welcome,” he muttered. Then he stilled. “There’s three more hiding in the rafters of the next building. One of them has a sniper gun.” 

He could hear the shots and quickly stepped in front of the men Batman had tied up. Clearly they didn’t want them talking.

“They’re getting smarter,” Batman grumbled.

Clark didn’t have time to comment as he grabbed each of the bullets. He couldn’t afford to let them ricochet. He’d been lucky when he’d been hit with bullets before that they hadn’t hurt anyone.

“I realize you probably prefer to work alone…”

Batman grunted. 

“But, could you see to stopping the snipers. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on these five for you.” He really didn’t want to wait until they ran out of ammo. Not when they could have an entire arsenal at their disposal. Not that their shots would harm him, but he didn’t want to risk the civilians, even if they were drug dealers threatening others lives, to get hurt.

Batman had already left the immediate area by the time he’d finished his sentence and was grappling up the side of the other building. 

* * *

Bruce didn’t like that Superman was there. But this was one situation he’d not foreseen. The drug dealers and thugs didn’t typically plan like they’d done for this night. Something had changed. Or someone was  _ helping _ them. He didn’t know who, but he’d find out. One of the thugs was bound to spill, as long as the snipers didn’t end their lives.

He subvocalized so that Alfred could hear him through the communicator, “There’s something bigger going on here than a kid stealing drugs.”

“Be that as it may, do be careful, sir.”

He went quiet then as he pulled himself into the window of a floor below the snipers a few windows away from being directly beneath them. Their gunfire had camouflaged the sound of his grapple hook allowing him easier access than if they’d been shooting at him or one of his tools.

Finding the stairs he climbed them and pulled out a dart-gun with a tranquilizer. He aimed for the one on their knees holding the gun. Then placing the dart-gun back in its compartment he hurried into the shadows, wrapping his cape around himself as the other two turned to shoot.

His focus as well as theirs was no longer on Superman and the six already tied up. But when he felt a quick breeze when there hadn’t been any winds earlier he grimaced.

Superman bent the guns barrels back and stared at the snipers with what looked like wrathful anger. The alien in red, blue and gold shook his  head and turned to him. “Now what?”

He was about to tell him to get the hell out of his city.  _ Again _ .

“Do you want them all in one place?” The non-human being asked.

“Take these three and put them with the five from before. Then you can leave.” He’d see if the Superman could be trusted even that little bit. Not that he hadn’t proven useful, but he wasn’t about to get close to the alien. He could have some sort of mind control tricks up his blue sleeves. No one knew the extent of his powers and what was known was extensive.

Superman nodded, “Right,” and picked up the three criminals once Bruce had finished cuffing them with Batcuffs.

Superman, holding them, leaped out of the window and flew to the building across the way. Where he landed slow and gentle upon the balcony. 

With a growl, he tossed his grapple across and swung over and up onto the same balcony.

“Now leave,  _ Superman _ .”

“What are you going to do?”

“Get answers.”

“Shouldn’t you let the police do that?”

He snarled. “With how corrupt the system is, it’s unlikely. Some of those cops are under the drug bosses thumb, or they’re even the damn boss.”

Superman’s eyes widened. “What? Can you prove that?”

“Not yet.”

“Surely there are some good cops…”

“Commissioner Gordon. Anyone else is suspect. Now leave.”

“Fine. Just… don’t kill anyone.”

“I  _ don’t _ kill.” He ground out and glared at the super-powered Kryptonian. 

He watched the dark haired alien take a step back and then another and another.

“Okay…, but if you need help…”

“I won’t.”

Superman frowned and shook his head. “Just call me.” Then he was jumping off the balcony and taking off into the night sky. A blur of color there and gone. A shadow across the full moon. But it didn’t look like he’d left the city when he landed on a building in the distance. Or maybe his perception was incorrect and he’d crossed the bridge and was on a building in Metropolis.

Shaking his head, he turned to the criminals. He only needed one of them to spill.

“So, who is going to tell me the name of your boss?” He glared at the eight tied up closest together. The ninth individual, the teenager he’d tied up but didn’t believe would know. That didn’t mean he didn’t need protection that the police could provide. But what he’d told the Superman was correct. The GCPD had too many corrupt cops in its ranks and even Commissioner Jim Gordon hadn’t been able to weed them all out during his tenure.

“We ain’t talkin’ to the likes o’ you, ya insane Bat.” Then he glanced at the others, or as best he could. “Anyone opens their mouth and it’ll be a grave in the harbor.”

He didn’t mention he’d begun recording their words in order to at least get them on some sort of charge. But he did turn it off.

“It looks like we’ll have to do this the hard way,” he sighed. He untied the most talkative and held him upside down over the railing of the balcony.

“Fuck man! I thought ya didn’t kill, Batman.”

“Who are you working for?”

“I dunno man. We’s only talk ta the middle-man!”

“And what is their name?” He let his grip slip just a little. Heard the scream of the sniper.

“Sierra! That’s all we know ‘er as.”

“What does she look like?” He let his grip slip just a little more.

“Shit! Sh-she’s a real beauty. Wouldn’t know it ta look at her that she’s a right bitch. Bleached blonde and long lashes. Tall lady with B-cup and the prettiest cornflower blue eyes.”

He pulled the man up and tied him back up when he heard the sirens closing in. Stepping into the shadows he watched as Commissioner Gordon himself stepped out onto the beat to help his officers arrest the nine individuals.

He jumped out of one of the windows and used the updraft to help his cape glide him down a few stories to another balcony across the way that he entered and crept along the shadows.

Once on the main floor he left and jumped into the Tumbler. 

He didn’t have a whole lot to work with, but at least it was something.

* * *

Clark cringed as he heard the threats and the fear coming from the criminals in the hands of Batman. He just had to remember what the Superman of another time-dimension had said. Not that it was easy letting the vigilante do whatever he pleased.

He was about ready to fly back when the fear stopped and he turned around to see that Batman had pulled up the one who’d given him  _ details _ . The Batman was human. Not even  _ meta _ . He could get hurt. It made him wonder just how long he’d been doling out punishment. Something to investigate even though he’d given up that venue of possibilities. He wasn’t going to MU to become a journalist, not that he couldn’t take that as a secondary to his main goal. Something he needed to think about.

Changing atop the building in a blink of an eye he ran into the building on the empty top floor once he knew the maintenance man wasn’t afoot. Then, in his civilian clothing and glasses he headed downstairs to his apartment. Closed and locked his door behind him.

He sat down in the corner where he’d left his desktop and booted it up. Then began his search of anything related to  _ The Bat of Gotham _ , or  _ Gotham’s Boogeyman _ , or  _ Batman _ , or even  _ Batman of Gotham _ . He located and read all that he could. Speed read and only had to wait for things to load. Considering he was still using dial-up in this day and age it could be downright slow. But anything to save money helped so he could send as much as possible his Ma’s way.

There was a lot. Mostly speculation. There were those who scoffed and said it was all a conspiracy. Another hoax like Bigfoot or Nessie or the Jersey Devil.

But he’d seen him. Heard him. Met him. Spoken with him. Not that any of the times had been all that pleasant, but this last at least he hadn’t had to pull out the Kryptonite.

And he’d forgotten  _ again _ to mention the Kryptonoite needing to be made into a spear, or something like it. To be  _ thrown _ . Just in case that part of the other Superman’s history also played out in his own life. The guy had left him  _ some _ clues to try and prevent whatever it was. But of course he’d gotten distracted and been annoyed by Batman’s reticence that he leave. He’d not let The Bat drive him out of his new home. Even if it was tempting to return to the farm where his Ma always had something good waiting on the table for him.

He glanced at the clock and sighed. “Too late to call,” he looked down at his cell on the coffee table. She’d get a call from him tomorrow. Sometime before the fancy gala that Bruce Wayne was taking him to. The man would probably drink too much and start hitting on all the women, maybe the men too. Going by what he’d read. Even if he didn’t think that was all there was to Bruce Wayne, there was often smoke where there was fire. But he wasn’t going to let that stop him. And not because of the dress. Although that was a nice bonus. The man had  _ bribed _ him by offering to double donations toward the charity. He couldn’t say no to that when it would help so many people and the environment.

“Well, at least Batman won’t be there. And no one but Ma and Lois know…” he whispered to himself. He couldn’t imagine what the people would think if they knew Superman liked to dress up as a woman, or even sometimes felt as if he were one. Although he’d never placed a label on himself. Didn’t exactly know which terminology to go with so he decided he was just a  _ being _ that enjoyed what they enjoyed and to hell with what others thought. At least in his civilian identity. As for his hero identity he wasn’t sure where to go with that. The better the line drawn, the harder for others to guess. But Superman would never look down on anyone other than villains but even then he thought there had to be hope for them. People could change.

Turning off his computer he lifted his arms above his head and yawned. Yet another one of his habits. But even he got tired. Although getting a good sun soak did more for his energy than closing his eyes. But sleeping brought dreams and some semblance of peace to combat the chaos of the cacophony of voices calling for Superman. Sometimes they weren’t even emergencies. Which meant learning to tell the difference and determine where to go, or even to go at all if someone just wanted his attention and not actual  _ help _ .

* * *

Alfred quirked a brow, “Master Wayne, you really should get some sleep tonight. You’ve a long day ahead of you.”

Bruce grunted as he removed the cowl. “I know, Alfred. I’m thinking.”

“Aren’t you always? Does this have to do with your unexpected helper?”

“I don’t think he left Gotham.”

“Did he not fly away when you told him to leave?”

“I told him to get out of my city.”

“Perhaps he does not believe that you  _ own _ the city, sir.”

“He can find another city to protect. I’ve been at this for longer than he has. I don’t need his help.”

“Perhaps not, but there is nothing wrong with accepting help from time to time. It would be nice if you could make a new friend, sir.”

“Not with an alien that could easily snap me in half, Alfred. He’s too unpredictable.”

“Is he, sir?”

He shrugged as he finished removing the upper body of his armor. “He doesn’t listen to orders well.”

“Well, you are neither his boss, nor his leader, Master Wayne.” Alfred set down a tray of sandwiches and tea. “I’ve prepared a light meal for you, sir.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” He said as he got the last boot off and walked over to sit down where Alfred had left the tray.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?”

“Not now, Alfred.”

“Very well, sir. I’ll see you in the morning. Please do try to get some rest. You do have a date for tomorrow after all.” He bowed to him and then turned to head up the cave steps to the main floor of Wayne Manor.

He’d not forgotten. Sure he’d been distracted by drug dealers, snipers, and the Superman. Which as he chewed a bite of one of the sandwiches made him think over just where Superman had appeared to land.

Maybe he was visiting Clark Joseph Kent. Even though the man  _ had _ said they weren’t close  _ like that _ . Perhaps the Kryptonian wasn’t compatible with humans and Clark was still interested in the red-caped alien. Otherwise why would Clark want to have a platonic date with Brucie? Most people who landed a date with him were either criminals wanting to use him in some way for their heist, or wanted to fuck.

Clark Joseph Kent’s background and scores at MU led him to believe the man of a high intelligence. Perhaps one to rival his own. Someone to hold a conversation with. And he wasn’t bad looking either. He’d seen the way that dress had outlined his figure. Which he hid behind baggy clothes that didn’t do him justice.

Taking another bite of his sandwich he wondered if it would be worth it to get to know the man better. Except every time he got into a relationship things ended poorly. Either they left him once they found out his secret, or they left because of his behavior, or they died because he’d failed them.

Taking a sip of his tea he murmured, “I won’t fail. I’ll make sure the Superman hasn’t brainwashed Clark into whatever kind of relationship they do have.” He could be wrong, but it was always a good idea to consider all the variables and conduct tests to ensure no one was compromised. 

His eyes fluttered closed as he lay his head over one of his arms and fell asleep. Sometime during his slumber he felt a warm blanket placed over his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'd love to know what you thought of it, what you liked, what you didn't like even? Any speculations, or if you think you've found any holes in the plot, etc. 
> 
> Has anyone read Red Son, Midnighter, or Distant Fires in regards to comics and/or Elseworld's? Any suggestions?


	6. To the Ballroom

Clark groaned as he heard another yell for ‘ _ Superman _ ’ to help. He’d have lost count if he weren’t so good at remembering every little finite detail of just how many times he’d had to change into his alter ego and fly to the rescue. It was just one of  _ those _ mornings filled with emergency after emergency. He’d even had to skip out of a couple of classes which he wouldn’t normally have done but there had been  _ bombs _ in the city. One of which had been quite close to Metropolis University itself.

He wondered, as he quickly turned back around in mid-air if the entire day would continue to be like the morning and early afternoon. If it did he couldn’t see  _ how _ he’d be able to make it to his apartment to get ready for the charity ball that Bruce Wayne had invited him to, or rather  _ bribed _ him into attending. With the promise of giving more than he’d planned on to the charity.

It was neither a bomb, nor a fire, nor a bank robbery this time. No, instead, it was a man beating on his wife and getting out a wrench. There behind a closet door a little boy huddled, weeping, shaking with fear.

He opened the window and flew in till he stood between the abuser and the abused. The wrench hit him in the chest and the man yelped and let go of his weapon.

If only he’d gotten there  _ sooner _ he might have prevented much, if not all of the beating the woman had taken by the hands of the man. He’d never understand how a husband could be so cruel to his wife. Jonathan Kent had been a wonderful husband to Martha Kent and a wonderful father to him.

“I don’t think so, sir,” he would have spat the last word, but refrained from showing his disgust -  _ just barely _ as he grabbed the man by the arm. He placed just enough pressure that he couldn’t get away, but avoided hurting him even though the guy deserved a good beat down. That wasn’t  _ his _ way though. Yet from what he’d read, it might have been The Bat’s way.

“Ma’am, please call the police.”

She hesitated a moment and he glanced at her, for just a moment. He smiled reassuringly at her. Then she got up, shaking like a leaf and dialed the police.

He hoped she’d be able to break free of the cycle. This couldn’t have been the only time based on old mending bones and week old bruises that he detected with his X-ray vision. And wished he’d been there  _ then _ , before things had escalated. But he couldn’t be everywhere at every moment. It was something he still had to come to terms with even as he tried to block out the screams followed by the silence from the falling buildings that had been destroyed in the wake of battle with Zod and his followers.

“H-hello,” the woman said into the phone, “m-m-my husband was b-beating me up and wh-when he drew out a w-wrench, Superman stopped him. H-he’s still here, my husband… Superman too. M-my little boy…”

Just then the weeping boy ran out, “Mama!” and threw himself at his mother and hugged her, his arms around, his head buried at her waistline.

Not long after the sound of sirens closed in on them and the man’s struggle renewed. The man was desperate, Clark could tell, as he lifted item after item trying to get him to let go.

At least if he were hitting  _ him _ , he wasn’t hitting his wife, or child. He sincerely hoped that once the police got there that the woman wouldn’t return to her husband and would press charges. Yet it was not up to him to decide what was best. That was  _ their _ decision. No matter how much he might not agree with certain choices. It was not up to him to steal away someone’s autonomy - even if he felt it would be in their best interests.

He saluted the police officers when they got there after he told them what he’d heard and seen before he took off.

Lunchtime had long since passed and he’d missed it. Not that he was hungry, but he  _ liked _ eating - at least the three normal square meals a day. Even if he didn’t exactly need to.

With a sigh, he found an empty men’s room and zipped past the cameras and into a stall. Once changed into his everyday clothing he left and headed for his teachers to get any assignments he’d miss during his impromptu assessment at Wayne Enterprise’s Biotech division in Gotham. At least that was closer to his apartment than the University.

It didn’t take too long to gather everything he needed from his professors before heading home on his old bicycle. At least, in part, it might explain his physique if anyone were to examine him closely. He knew that the dress for later wouldn’t hide him, but that didn’t mean people were going to recognize him. He hoped. But would people really believe Superman would wear a dress? Probably not.

Once home and finished with his routine during and after his shower and long soak in hot scented water that was just on the verge of scalding. It couldn’t hurt him, as long as there weren’t certain variables, but he tried to be normal. As normal as someone like him  _ could _ be.

How he longed to be normal. But if he  _ were _ normal, he couldn’t do the things he did to help the people of the world. He wouldn’t have been able to stop Zod. But if he’d been normal, Zod  _ never _ would have come to Earth.  _ Maybe _ .

What was the use of longing to fit in? With his wishes and desires he’d have been an outcast anyway. Especially back in Smallville. Small towns were notorious for their outlook and views on things like men dressing up in women’s clothing. Not everyone. But there were still those even in the whole of the nation, the entire world, who’d view him - Clark Kent - as an anomaly, an abomination, as  _ wrong _ . Not everyone was like that and he thanked Rao and any higher entity out there that he hadn’t arrived on Earth a century or more earlier. Or even a decade or so earlier than he had.

Because back then, the farther back one went, he’d have had to hide. Maybe not in all the world, but in a great deal of it.

He swept into his bedroom and opened the box which had been delivered. Pulled out the garment and admired its seams and how subtly it had been altered so that it fit him. Where the zipper had been, instead there were pieces of cloth criss-crossing up the back. Some of which had to be hooked to the other side of the back of the dress.

It didn’t detract from its appeal.

Slipping into the smooth silky garment, he shivered as the material brushed against his nipples and contoured to his hips, his waistline, his abdomen.

He dare not think how it clung to his posterior like shrink-wrap over a bowl of Ma’s brownie batter.

It was a tight fit, but the slits on either side of the dress that reached up to his knees allowed him to walk rather than shuffle.

Clark  _ couldn’t _ allow himself to think about the price tag. Or that the dress had been accompanied by a pair of one inch wide heeled dance shoes. In  _ his _ size. How had Bruce known that!?

He shook his head and walked over to his closet. Found one of the very few pairs of fishnet stockings.

Clark had to take the dress off - carefully so as not to wrinkle the material - to adorn the suspender belt and suspenders that clipped onto the fishnet stockings. Then, he carefully placed the dress back on.

With every step he took, the silk moved against his flesh. Just because a bullet could bounce off him without any indication of pain, didn’t mean he couldn’t feel. He luxuriated in the feeling. The sensuous tease of the fabric like a lover trailing a silk tie over his nipples and down along his naval.

He walked over to his dresser and pulled it out further. Until he reached behind a false board and pulled out a pair of lace panties. Stepped a leg in, one at a time and pulled them up. He had to unclip the suspenders and reclip them after the panties were in place.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled and exhaled. Each motion slow and calculated as the lace rubbed against his cock, positioned upward with the hem of the panties pressing against his very  _ male _ organ.

No one would  _ see _ . No one would know.

Opening his eyes, he turned toward the vanity in his room and sat on the single chair there. Gazed into the mirror, face flushed and eyes bright as if he’d just been touched by the hands of a lover.

He didn’t have one. The potential with Lois  _ gone _ . Clark couldn’t see her being pleased with his proclivities, his urges, his needs, his love of women’s clothing and make-up. None of which made him gay. Nothing  _ made _ him gay. Except the word didn’t quite resonate. Didn’t quite fit. If anything he was bisexual, or along the lines of demisexual. Just labels the humans phrased to try and understand. But they were all human with their own hopes and dreams, desires and wishes. They all still bled the same. He  _ didn’t want _ to see them bleed.

He opened a parcel and took out the make-up he’d purchased. Used the blue-grey eyeshadow to bring out the color of his eyes, blue as a Kansas sky.

He didn’t  _ need _ the mascara, but since it was in the kit he gave into the temptation to use it. His already long dark lashes thickened and transformed. He refrained from blinking while it dried.

Clark used only the smallest hint of blush, a deep rouge that he rubbed into his cheekbones in an angled slant.

Next he picked up a ruby red lipstick and a make-up pencil. He used the latter to shape his lips. This not because he needed to, but because it was a way to keep people from guessing the truth. He drew lines on his lips. Made them look even fuller than they already were. A deeper color - a ruby red. Reshaped and eye catching, but not natural. But he enjoyed the process of transforming his appearance from masculine, or dork-like, to tempestuous. At least he hoped he looked tempestuous and not like Superman.

With his makeup applied he trimmed, filed, and buffed his nails. He decided not to paint them. There wasn’t time.

Since he couldn’t wear regular earrings due to not being able to get his ears pierced he had a small collection of clip ons. He found a pair with synthetic sapphires each with a synthetic garnet between them. Little droplets that hung from his lobes. He had a matching necklace that he donned. 

The people were less likely to notice his jewelry was fake than to notice that he was a  _ man _ in women’s attire. Even though, there were days, and weeks at a stretch that he felt anything but. However he was fine with his body, though he’d known those who weren’t. And had encouraged them to seek out therapists and other doctor’s as well as support groups that would see them through should they  _ truly _ want the surgery. Things that they whispered about behind closed doors until they were ready to let everyone know. 

It was  _ hard _ when he didn’t get there in time to stop those filled with fear, paranoia, and all sorts of phobias from hurting  _ them _ . Because when they hurt, it cut deep into his bone and shattered a piece of his soul.

Those who survived, he sat by, held their hands, reassured them. Those who didn’t survive, he mourned. But he refrained from seeking revenge. Instead he found ways to bring them to justice. Even when the system was flawed. No system was without its flaws. And even when a system didn’t show flaws, it was the people in leadership positions that tainted all that was once good and noble into something twisted.

He kept the tears at bay. Knowing that if he weren’t Kryptonian, that the sun was yellow and not red, or some other color, he’d be just as vulnerable.

If one of those people intent on harming those who were different were to go after him, they couldn’t hurt him. Except they might learn his identity and that too was frightening itself. Because of the government - always biding its time so they could capture him, dissect him, study him,  _ use him _ in hopes of creating a superpowered army. More disastrous and distasteful than their penchant for nuclear warheads and biological warfare.

When would it end, he wondered? All he could do was help. He didn’t want to rule them. He wanted to be a part of their world. He chuckled at that.  _ Ariel _ he was not.

Combing his hair he shifted to his right and stared at the wig. He found hair clips to hold his actual hair in place and bobby pins to keep the wig in place. The black hair of the wig long enough to reach mid-back. But instead of letting it hang loose he used more easily concealed hair clips and bobby pins to style his hair like Princess Leia from Star Wars The Empire Strikes Back. Braided and hanging down in a loop from the bun.

Satisfied, he closed all of the opened make-up and pushed back from the vanity and mirror to stand. The last touch was slipping on the heels and picking up the clutch purse and sheer shawl.

_ Brucie Wayne _ wasn’t known for being early. Wasn’t known for being  _ on time _ .

But as he neared his door to exit his apartment, he heard a knock. Saw the time. Blinked. Once.  _ Twice _ .

Unlocked the door from the handle, and removed the chain lock from farther up the door. Not that he had to worry about being robbed. It wasn’t like he owned anything terribly expensive that anyone would be interested in.

Except the dress and heels he had on.

Before going to the door, he slipped on a pair of thinner framed glasses - shaped like cat’s-eyes.

As expected, it wasn’t Bruce Wayne. It was  _ someone else _ .

The blue eyed young man stared wide-eyed at him. “Well, I didn’t expect  _ you _ .”

He managed a small smile. “Oh?”

“You’re not Bruce’s  _ usual _ type. No offense!” The younger man grinned. He couldn’t be that many years younger than Clark himself.

“None taken… Mister….”

“Ah, Grayson, Richard Grayson. You can call me Dick, though, most do.”

“Thank, you… Dick.”

Dick grinned. “Well, Alfred asked me to pick you up and drive you over since I was in the area. And I was curious, since Alfred filled me in. On what details he knew himself anyway. Is this your first date with Bruce?”

Clark blinked. The man was on the bubbly-friendly side. “It’s a  _ platonic _ date. I’m really just a guest.”

“I heard you were a reporter.”

He nodded. “That is true.”

Dick offered his arm, “So, you’re attending in a professional capacity then, Clark? If I may call you Clark?”

“You may. And no, I’m not covering the charity.” He didn’t want to  _ lie _ even as he took Dick’s arm and was led to the elevator, downstairs and out to a limousine. Which Dick apparently had driven over himself.

“Huh. Well, you seem nice.”

Clark hoped he didn’t just  _ seem _ nice. His Ma and Pa had raised him to be nice. To be kind. They’d instilled in him care and consideration for others.

“Will you be attending, Dick?”

Dick was quiet until they reached a red light.

“No. I won’t be. I’m just here for Alfred.”

“Oh?”

“Bruce and I… well… it’s complicated.”

“Were you two…”

Dick shook his head and chuckled. “Nothing like what you’re thinking. Bruce took me in when I was eight. We had a falling out.”

“Do you hate him?”

“No. But, it’s better this way.”

Clark didn’t want to pry, but that reporter's instinct was kicking in - that he’d gained on his high school’s paper. But he had  _ other _ instincts too. He was best placed at Wayne Biotech and could secretly incorporate some of the Kryptonian technology he’d learned about in case it helped find solutions to human ailments both mental and physical. To find ways to detect chronic illness early enough that they could be drastically slowed or even eliminated. There was so much he  _ could _ do and so little that he should. Earth wasn’t Krypton and if it were, well look what had happened to Krypton.

That was the greatest nightmare of all. Losing Earth and being alone.  _ Again _ . Except he  _ was _ alone. The only Kryptonian. The only  _ sane _ one who hadn’t tried to destroy everything that made the blue planet what it was.

Dick stopped outside the door to the building where the charity gala was being held. Then he held open the door for Clark.

“Bruce and Alfred are already inside.”

“Am I… late?”

Dick grinned. “Oh no! You’re right on time. And hey, nothing wrong with being  _ fashionably _ late. Not that you are. Just this is something Bruce felt he had to be here early for.”

Clark wondered  _ why _ , but didn’t raise the question.

“Enjoy the gala, Clark. I’ve got to get back to  Blüdhaven . For once, I have the nightshift.”

When he saw him pull out a badge he smiled.

“Good luck, Officer.” 

Dick saluted and turned. Left the limousine to hop on a motorcycle and donned a helmet.

He hadn’t  _ known _ about Bruce having a kid. Dick wasn’t his biological child, but he’d raised him. Although there seemed to be a strain on their relationship. He couldn’t imagine being estranged from his Pa… if his Pa were still around.  _ How he missed him. _

Turning around he took a breath. Sighed it out. Stood tall and walked up the steps to the door of the building. Walked down the hall to the steps leading into the ballroom floor.

He glanced over those in attendance. Recognized faces from news articles, magazines, and television. People from Gotham and Metropolis both. Well known faces of the cities upper-crust and visiting dignitaries. Those who were not easily identifiable were the wait staff and curators. 

Of course, once he met someone, knew their name and their face, he didn’t forget them. Though he had to pretend otherwise - sometimes. Superman  _ knew _ and didn’t forget. Clark Kent could not remember so well. Another area that he had to keep separate and compartmentalized so that he didn’t give himself away in either guise.

Finally, his gaze settled on Bruce Wayne holding a fluted glass - three quarters filled - conversing with a group of people.

Some people stared at him. He could  _ feel _ it. There were gasps of shock and horror. Giggles and fingers pointed his way. All of which he ignored. Let the feelings hit him and slide off him like water off a duck’s back.

He was not here for  _ their _ entertainment. Those who scorned them were unworthy of his attention, regard, or respect. As Clark Kent he could ignore them, give them the cold shoulder if need be. As Superman he didn’t have the luxury.

So, he smiled.  _ At Bruce Wayne _ . He was there at his bequest after all.

* * *

Bruce turned and stared at the doors leading into the ballroom, some thirty feet from where he stood.

He had to stop his jaw from dropping. Clenched his jaw just one moment.

Lifted his drink to his lips and took a sip from the cup he’d been nursing the past twenty-seven minutes, eighteen seconds.

If not for the individual wearing the dress he’d helped pick out, he’d have wondered who the hell they were. With their slim yet muscular body wrapped in fine fabrics.

They wouldn’t have needed the make-up. Bruce had already seen the handsome face that belonged to the man standing there. Defying gender norms. Clark would make a beautiful woman.  _ Did _ make a beautiful woman, but he was a man. Unless he told him otherwise. Clark could be whatever he wanted.

_ Fuck _ . Bruce  _ wanted  _ Clark. Like a man lost in a desert wanted water.

Clark  _ didn’t _ want Bruce. He had to keep telling himself this as he set down his glass and felt his feet carry him toward his date. His  _ platonic _ date of the evening. To whom he offered his hand.

Taking Clark’s hand in his, he bowed down and brushed a kiss over the back of his knuckles. It’d break the tension in the room. He didn’t care who it upset,  _ if _ it upset anyone.

“I’m glad you could make it, Clark.” He straightened up where he stood and led Clark down the few steps to the ballroom floor.

“Well, thank you for inviting me, Bruce. There are a lot of people here.” Clark glanced around at his side.

Bruce turned to stand in front of him. Gazed into the beautiful eyes behind the lenses. “Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, Clark?”

Clark blinked. Stared at his hand. Lips slightly parted.

Bruce didn’t think seduction would work on him. Clark had been very  _ adamant _ about this date being platonic. As if he didn’t  _ like _ Bruce. He’d been lured by the idea of the charity receiving more funds than previously intended - with the dress and shoes an added bonus.

Clark was a feast for the eyes. And he wanted to devour him. But something told him that lust alone would not win over Clark Kent. An individual with an intelligence that could possibly rival his own if his sources were indeed correct and if Clark was actually hiding the true depths of his genius.

And often, those with brilliant minds, were either insane enough to belong in Arkham, or were good people who weren’t interested in  _ Brucie _ . Or even Bruce Wayne. Not even in his fortune, because with their genius they could forge their own path to nouveaux riches. To them, an intelligent mind was far more appealing and he  _ couldn’t _ afford to let anyone learn just how intelligent he was. Not as Bruce Wayne, anyway. And therein lies the crux of the problem.

Just as he was about to take a step back, Clark put his hand in Bruce’s again.

“I’d love to dance, Mister Wayne.”

He blinked. “Bruce. Please.”

“Bruce,” Clark smiled and lowered his lashes for a moment.

If he didn’t have to worry about the alien, he could think about entering a relationship. But every relationship he had turned to ashes. He didn’t deserve Clark’s attention. So he’d have to be content with what he could get.

The feel of the man against his body as they pressed together for the dance. The feel of his hip, the way his hand felt held in his own. The scent of peach blossoms, apples and cinnamon. The way he glided across the floor of the ballroom with him. The way he didn’t seem to give a damn what some people were whispering around the room. Not even some of the heated looks - both the hungry and the angry and disgusted that were turned in his direction. Because he dared to defy what was socially acceptable - defy what society deemed to be the status quo.

Behind those frames, Bruce saw a passion and determination that burned. Almost like seeing into his dance partner’s soul as he whirled him around and tipped him back over his arm in a dip as the music dictated. Eyes that could sear and seduce. Even when there wasn’t any intention of doing just that.

His heartbeat picked up speed. Not from the dance itself, but from the idea that he could be so easily seduced by just a look from the person in his arms.

Bruce could not allow himself to fall. Not when he was unworthy of affection. Not when he had his  _ current _ mission regarding the Superman. And certainly not when he had no hope of having such feelings reciprocated by the enigma that was Clark Joseph Kent.

As the music neared its end, he dipped Clark one last time. He grinned - he could not let his day mask slip.

“You dance well.”

Clark flushed and his lashes fluttered closed with a sigh. Then they opened and he smiled up at him.

“You too.”

Some people clapped and cheered. With others huffed and glared.

Bruce helped Clark back to his feet and went to a table to sit with him.

He knew he should leave his side. Leave the building even. The more time spent with Clark, the more he wondered and despaired.

When Clark’s eyes widened behind glass, Bruce turned. Slow. His body tensed as some of the waiters pulled out guns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I'd love to know what your favorite part was.
> 
> Anyway, you're all in my prayers to stay safe, sane, and healthy during these troubling times. But it too shall pass, just like smallpox, and other things that our ancestors went through. Here's to hoping they manage to get a working vaccine, but it'll take time. Until then, I don't think there's much else we can do than to stay home, stay safe, and stop the spread... this Summer is going to suck since there are mandates not to go to gatherings and I know people love their gatherings and their parades... and their beaches and public pools. I was going to buy some more trees for the yard but I don't think I can? But I have some flowers and three lilac shrubs I can plant. Even though I had plans to buy berry bushes and stuff too... but I don't think the stores will be having that stuff since it's not essential? I have no idea.


	7. Disarming

Bruce should have known. But he’d been _distracted_ by his lovely, albeit platonic, date, Clark Joseph Kent.  
  
He couldn’t let him get hurt and, holding his hand, pulled him behind one of the tables onto their hands and knees. “Hide under here, Clark. I’ll hide under one of the other tables.” He kept his voice low and the sentence as short as possible.  
  
When it seemed like the man might speak, he placed a finger over his lips and shook his head. 

Clark blinked at him and then nodded.

Bruce was glad he understood the severity of the issue at hand. Clark was not the only one at the charity that was in need of protection. Still, he was there as his date and his attention would have been on him. _Too long._  
  
This put everything into perspective. As much as he wanted Clark, if he were with him, danger in both his guises remained.  
  
Peering from beneath the table cloth, he saw rows of legs and backs as the people sat, held hostage at the barrel end of guns.  
  
He crawled to the next table. Then the next. Until he found an open archway. Rolled beyond that point.  
  
Clicked a button on his phone to alert Alfred who would press a button of his own to alert the police to the situation if no one else had as yet.

Upstairs, he opened a locked case hidden behind a painting and a retina reading vault. Walked in to it and closed the door. Changed into his Batsuit. Rode the hidden elevator up to the roof. Took hold of his grapple hook and swung down. Shattered glass. It was still a couple stories above where the people were being held hostage. Including Clark.  
  
Opening a door, he descended the stairs. Opened one that led into a hallway. He pulled a couple pellets out of his utility belt and threw one into the hall where a few of the men holding guns stood.  
  
He waited for them to start coughing. Saw them fall to their hands and knees holding their throats. They wouldn’t die, of course, but it didn’t take long for the gas to render them unconscious.  
  
Any of the other thugs who ran into the hall didn’t stand a chance either against the gas.  
  
Not all of the gun toting criminals were stupid. Some carried gas masks. Five of them.  
  
“If you come in here, Batman, we start shooting,” their leader warned from inside the room.  
  
He stayed out in the hall, up against a shadowed corner behind a couple of tall leafy house plants. He grit his teeth together as he tried to recalculate based on positioning as the sirens in the distance grew closer.  
  
Even the police wouldn’t invade, not until they had a clear shot of those holding the people hostage.  
  
The gas would only keep the others unconscious for so long. And then it would be a far more dire situation.  
  
What, besides money, did these creeps want, he wondered, and who was leading them?

* * *

Clark wanted to follow Bruce, but he couldn’t risk being seen.  
  
When he was about to narrow his gaze and use his X-ray vision to follow the man, someone bumped into the table.  
  
Lifting a hand, he held the table steady so it didn’t tip over and expose his position. And then, he couldn’t find Bruce.  
  
His stomach sank. Had one of the gunmen caught him and carried him elsewhere?  
  
So far he hadn’t heard any gunshots. Not yet. But if the criminals were surprised it could set them off. And he was in a dress! It would take him a bit longer to change since he wasn’t wearing his suit. Plus he dare not rip up the dress that Bruce Wayne had spent so much on.  
  
Using his X-ray vision he stared through the table cloth. Several of the gunmen left the room and entered the hall.  
  
He heard them cough and collapse, but their hearts still beat.  
  
Batman was there. Even those who wielded guns realized, but had come prepared in case of gases used by the police, or Batman, or both.  
  
Clark didn’t care. He needed to find Bruce. No, he needed to _help_ .  
  
Rolling from underneath the table he sped toward an open window and up to the roof. Ducked inside the door. Grimaced at the cobwebs and dust particles which had recently been disturbed just before him.  
  
Quickly, he undid the dress in the back and shimmied out of it. Tossed off the shoes and panties. Placed them in the empty waste basket in one dark corner and then placed his shield on his chest.  
  
Once the material of his red and blue suit had materialized he was on the move. Flew down and sped around the room, using his hands to bend the end of two gun barrels and heat vision to heat another till one gunman's hands let go.  
  
He heard metal clinking against metal. Saw two batarangs take out the last two guns as the sharp edges cut into the gunmen’s hands.  
  
When a shot rang out, he let go and raced to intercept it. It bounced off his chest, but he caught it in his hand.  
  
He glanced around the room. Searching. “Batman, can you locate Mr. Wayne?”  
  
Batman grunted. He felt him glaring at him. “And how do you know he was here, alien?”  
  
“Please, just call me Kal? And was it not public knowledge that Bruce Wayne would be attending this charity?”  
  
“I’ll find him. Where did his date go?”  
  
“Who?” Superman couldn’t possibly know who Bruce Wayne had brought to the charity event. Sometimes it was difficult keeping his identities apart. But he had to maintain the secret, or the government might come after him. They and the bad guys might try and hurt those close to him.  
  
“Clark Kent.”  
  
His brows furrowed. “Is that public knowledge?”  
  
“No, but I live here. It’s my job to know.”

He wondered if Batman was suspicious of Bruce Wayne for some reason. “I’ll go find him.”

The two heroes turned from each other. Clark flew to the rooftop to change.

* * *

Batman swung up two stories to enter the safe room via a retina scanner. Inside he removed his armor.  
  
“Alfred, have you located Clark Kent?” He talked into his hidden communicator.  
  
“Negative, sir. Master Wayne, remember to take measures to hide your after hours hobby.”  
  
“Yes, Alfred,” he couldn’t go looking for Clark until he’d removed all traces of the Bat.  
  
Finding the small shower, he stepped inside. Only allowed himself five minutes to wash away the scent of his suit and that of the gasses he’d used to subdue some of the enemy.  
  
In the room, ready for him, was a fresh suit identical to the one he’d donned earlier that eve.  
  
Running his hand through his hair, he made sure to look as if he’d been worrying himself frantic. He was worried, but his public persona could not look too calm lest they should suspect.  
  
Once satisfied he ran from the safe room to the public space, then to the elevator. Noticed it was already descending and pressed the down button. If there was still some criminal on it, he needed to know.  
  


* * *

  
Clark went to the elevator and once inside sank down and sat. Pulled his legs up and rested his head on his knees. Thankfully the slit up either side of the dress allowed him to do so. He closed his eyes. Made his body tremble as though he’d been afraid.  
  
When the elevator door opened, he heard a sharp intake of breath.  
  
“Clark!”  
  
He lifted his head and glanced up. His eyes widened. “B-Bruce?”  
  
Bruce offered his hand to him and he placed his own in the man’s hand.  
  
At least he was safe.  
  
Bruce helped him up off the floor of the elevator. Blinked when the billionaire stepped closer and pulled him into a hug.  
  
“I’m glad you’re okay, Clark. What… what happened?”  
  
He lifted one hand to pat the man on the back. Evidently he’d been shaken up too.  
  
“When the bad guys were preoccupied, I rolled out from under the tables and into the hall. Got in the elevator.”  
  
“Did you see… the alien?”  
  
He really wished they’d stop calling him that. He was an alien, but he’d been raised human. “Yeah. He figured I should ride the elevator back down now that the police had everything under control.”  
  
“We’ll have to give statements,” Bruce sighed.  
  
“Yeah.” He didn’t like lying to the officers, but to maintain his secret identity he’d have to. “Where did you go?”  
  
“I got to the stairway and found myself on this floor. I had Alfred call the cops.”  
  
“Why Alfred?” His brows furrowed. Bruce could have called them directly.  
  
“I think they tend to believe Alfred, whereas they’re quick to think I’m being an idiot.”  
  
“You’re not an idiot.”  
  
Bruce chuckled and brushed his hand through Clark’s hair. “Thank you. Now, shall we go give our statements to the police?”  
  
He sighed. “Yeah.”  
  
“And after, let me treat you to an ice cream, or whatever comfort food you like. When I invited you as my plus one I didn’t foresee _this_ and wish to apologize.”  
  
Clark shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for, Mr. Wayne.”  
  
“What happened to you calling me Bruce?”  
  
He blinked. “Uh…” he had nothing he could think of to say.  
  
Bruce smirked and held his hand. Pressed a button and the elevator began to descend again. “I’d feel better if you let me take you to get something comforting to eat.”  
  
“Well… I guess if it’ll make _you_ feel better.”  
  
Bruce grinned. “Great!” He turned and the elevator door opened. Holding Clark’s hand still, the man led them out into the hall and toward the Commissioner of the GCPD, James Gordon.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked this chapter. It was giving me... a bit of difficulty, but I still hope readers found it entertaining. Do let me know what you thought of it. And feel free to point out any weak points I may have missed.
> 
> Is there any tag I should added based on what has been written/read thus far?


	8. Icecream Parlor

Once they'd finished giving their statements to GCPD's Commissioner, James Gordon, Bruce took Clark's hand and led him out of the building.

Clark could _feel_ the eyes boring into his back as he walked with the billionaire down the street, only to stop in front of a door leading inside to an ice cream parlor. He blinked at the assortment of flavors. Some of them a little more _exotic_ than others in one of the corners.

What he hadn't expected to see was the Pineapple Cilantro Sorbet. "Wow. Didn't expect t'see that flavor anywhere, but Kansas."

Bruce stared at the flavor he'd pointed out. "Well, this is the shop known for having any flavor the world has to offer or being able to get it. Do they have your favorite here?"

He went to move his hand and felt fingers brush against his wrist as he realized that the other man had been holding his hand since they'd left the ballroom after speaking with the police. Averting his gaze he pointed at one of the flavors. "Right now, I'd say Mint Chocolate Chip is my favorite." It depended on his mood, craving, and even the day. Yet mint chocolate chip, chocolate, or vanilla were his go-to flavors. Not that he'd tried every flavor out there available on Earth.

Bruce nodded and walked up to the cashier. "I'd like two cones. One with two scoops of Mint Chocolate Chip and the other with a small chocolate-vanilla twist cone."

He knew he shouldn't be getting too close to Bruce Wayne. It's what that _other Superman_ wanted after all. Not that he had any idea what kind of _close_ he'd meant. But this was the infamous playboy, breaker of a million hearts - which might have been a gross exaggeration, but it was definitely ingrained in the man's reputation for the past couple of decades.

The man _seemed_ nice, of course, but surely he couldn't be entrusted with certain secrets. Yet another alternate of himself had suggested he befriend Bruce Wayne in the guise of Clark Kent. The other him had not told him whether or not Bruce ever learned of his identity, whether by himself, or Clark just _telling_ him. He couldn't see himself giving the playboy billionaire that kind of information. Even if he was being a gentleman.

When Bruce handed him his ice cream cone, he smiled. "Thank you," and lowered his gaze and swiped his tongue over the cool minty-chocolate treat.

He closed his eyes, it had been some time since he'd had an ice cream cone. "Mmmn," he moaned.

His eyes popped open when the room seemed a bit too quiet within the vicinity. He caught dark wide eyes staring at his mouth. Bruce's own lips were parted with his ice cream starting to drip down the cone.

"Bruce?"

Bruce blinked, coughed, and then licked along the dripping ice cream before it could hit his knuckles. 

* * *

  
Bruce stared at Clark's lips. Spotting a chair, he sat down after lapping up some of his ice cream. This was a _platonic_ date. The ice cream was just to thank Clark for attending and not getting too upset about the attempted crime which had ruined the last portion of the ball. At least the charity money would still go on to fund what it had been meant for. He was trying to think of anything that would calm his rising ardor. Just _watching_ Clark had his libido stirring. Too bad nothing was going to come of it.

Lowering his own gaze he concentrated on his own cone. If he didn't he wasn't sure he'd survive. At least the coldness of the frozen treat helped to cool _some_ of his desire. Maybe it had just been too long since he'd actually taken anyone to his bed, or even a hotel room, or one of his company's penthouse suites atop various buildings Wayne Enterprises owned. Somehow, the Wayne charm wasn't working on the intelligent younger man whose background check had been spotless of criminal activity. How could anyone be so _good_ he wondered. It didn't seem natural. Not at all. Maybe they just bred them differently in Kansas. Or, well, raised them, since Clark Joseph Kent had been adopted as an infant by Jonathan and Martha Kent.

The man intrigued him. It was rare to find anyone so honest, but that didn't mean there weren't secrets. Everyone had them, good or bad. By the files, the gorgeous man in a dress sitting across from him and eating mint chocolate chip flavored dessert was just too good. _Untainted._ And Bruce, well, he felt unworthy and yet he felt like a moth drawn to a flame. But he'd only recently met the man and despite having an in-depth dossier on him, surely the burgeoning desire would dissipate without the necessary kindling.

"So, Clark, if you could have anything in the world, what would it be?" He asked of him before taking another taste of his own cone.

Clark blinked behind those frames he wore. "Uh... well guess it'd be t'have my Pa back, but since that ain't possible, lemme think."

Bruce gulped down the lump that formed in his throat. He'd give just about anything to have his own parents alive and well. He knew only too well just how impossible some wishes were.

Clark tilted his head and slowly rolled his tongue over his cone as it disappeared a little bit at a time. Then he spoke. "Y'see, what I'd like most would be t'get my hands on the Kryptonian ship and t'other stuff that fell in the Indian Ocean."

His brows furrowed. "Why would you want to have anything to do with that?"

The man across from him glanced down at the table with a sigh. "Many reasons. I'm curious, for one. For another, I'm always thinking of possibilities that could bring about cures, or at least vaccines to problems the world faces. It's why I'm most interested in working in BioTech. Although it's not just that kind of science I'm interested in, it is my main focus."

Bruce wondered why he wasn't looking when he answered. Perhaps too shy? Maybe he lacked confidence despite his intellect? "Well, if things work out, Wayne Enterprises might just hire you at the end of your trial period."

Clark glanced up at that. "Really?"

Bruce nodded. "As I said, my company is always looking for bright fresh minds. No matter the age. It's the fresh ideas that we're after. If you think this technology the aliens left in their destruction might be worth looking into for some kind of cure, then I'll see what I can do."

Clark glanced down at the table again at the word alien. He seemed to slow down on finishing his dessert. "It could also be dangerous if it falls into the wrong hands. There's no telling what people will do with advanced technology if they can decipher anything to get it to work. If it can even still operate."

He shuddered to think what would happen if that sort of technology fell into greedy hands, or worse, those seeking power and wanting to play god. There was already at least one being that was acting as if he were one. But they had given _him_ the means with which to destroy him. Except he had promised not to kill him at the time. He'd just have to continue keeping an eye on him. Which meant he didn't have time for distractions like cross-dressing farmboy, Clark Joseph Kent.

In silence, the two of them finished their ice creams and used the napkins to wipe their hands off before getting up to leave the establishment.

Bruce left a hundred dollar tip on the table and saw Clark's brows rise.

"Our ride should be waiting. Allow me to see you to your place."

"You... really don't have to, Bruce."

"Ah, but I'd like to." Then he could scope the place out a bit more before leaving for his estate. 

Clark's lips quirked into a smile. "Well, if you insist. I'm afraid I can't invite you up, I do have work to finish for the classes I'll be missing during this upcoming week."

Bruce opened the car door and waited for him to slide in and sit down before he followed suit. He reached over and helped Clark buckle up.

* * *

  
Clark shivered as Bruce's arm brushed against his chest as he buckled him in. It was an accident. _Had to be._ But he wondered if he could really put something like that past the man. Except, Clark wasn't a woman even if there were moments he wondered what it'd be like, or felt like one, or well, dressing up like one. Not that he thought clothes should be for one sex or the other. To him, it would be for the best if all clothing was considered unisex and people could wear whatever they wanted without censure, strange looks, or the like.

Once strapped in, he wondered if Bruce _could_ get the ship and other Kryptonian technology that the government or other companies were trying to locate and salvage. He couldn't let them get ahold of any of it. Not based on the information his future self from an alternative timeline had left for him. He'd been remiss in getting General Zod's body away from human hands. The other Superman had taken care of that problem. The deceased Kryptonian's body was no longer upon the Earth, but it had also been placed somewhere that the sun could not possibly restore him to life.

If he could just figure out how to create a key and gate to the Phantom Zone, just in case something or someone managed to resurrect the General, at least it would be safer. He hadn't truly felt safe since his Pa had passed away. But, while what he'd told Bruce was true about his reasons, they weren't the _only_ reasons. He had some _small_ hope that he could maybe fix the Jor-El program and repair all that had been lost.

Krypton could not be restored. He dare not let other Kryptonians be born. Not on Earth. Not while the sun was yellow. In case they were like Zod and his followers. In case they were used and abused by the governments of the world. But, it was all he had left of his biological parents who _had_ loved him, even if they'd not gotten to know nor raise him.

As Superman, he couldn't upset the world by looking for everything Kryptonian. It might frighten the people of Earth and he didn't want that. They were already afraid as it was, thanks to General Zod and his followers. And as Clark Kent, he just didn't have the funding even if he had the intellect. However, he refused to work for any government agency, were they to come upon him. That had been another concern he had. The government liked recruiting the strong, the super-human, the high intellect. But he wasn't interested in going to war, just keeping the peace. Helping people.

He blinked when the car came to a halt and Bruce leaned over to unbuckle his seat belt.

"Thank you, but you know, I could have done that myself."

Bruce grinned. "I know. I just wanted to get another close look before you go inside." He got out and took hold of Clark's hand. Helped him out of the car.

Clark felt the warmth of his hand on his back through the material of the dress. He didn't want to think about it. He'd be better off falling for the Bat vigilante of Gotham than for playboy Bruce Wayne. And since he wasn't into one-night stands, and he felt certain that's all it would be to _Brucie_ as the tabloids liked to call him, he wasn't going to go there. 

At the door to the apartment building he turned and smiled, "Thank you, but I can take it from here."

Bruce nodded and lifted Clark's hand to press a kiss against the back. "Thank you, Clark, for accompanying me tonight. Goodnight."

Clark stepped back and Bruce stared at him. Turning around he opened the door and stepped inside. Closed it even as he felt Bruce's gaze still on his back. With a sigh, he walked up the stairs.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'd love to know what you think and if you have any favorite parts. I'd also like to hear what you think and/or hope is going to happen in the upcoming chapter(s).
> 
> I'm not sure why, but this chapter just did not want to get written. That happens though when my mind feels meh... and I can't feel safe going to some of my favorite places that kind of give me inspiration. Plus all the other ideas swirling around in my head wanting an outlet. Especially the ones where I keep having a recurring dream of it... and yet I want to work on what I've already got going.
> 
> I thought about making a discord server, or finding one to join that'd maybe help me focus when I'm writing... but it could also be counterproductive. It doesn't help that my favorite times to write are now when I hear people yelling at each other because they watch too much news and its all they walk about while the rest of us are like... can we just have a day or two where it isn't brought up? Even if we can't go anywhere unless we really need milk or something... it'd be nice to have a vacation from hearing about it 24/7. I get wanting to rant, I do. But it's making my social anxiety disorder, panic disorder, etc... kind of act up. And I also learned just earlier today that one of my favorite youtube content creators... took their own life and I just... I cried. I thought it would have been the virus and I still would have cried, but its always /that/ which gets me deepest... because I struggle with depression and other mental heaths issues on top of some other health issues. So for those who have suffered such in the past, or are going through it now, I hope you're doing good, or at least okay. I'm hoping for you. I also hope everyone is staying safe and healthy due to the Covid-19.
> 
> I'm contemplating putting some of my other fics on Hiatus so I can concentrate on just 1 or 2 until those are finished... but I'm not sure it'd work since my mind really does tend to jump from one to the other depending on my mood. Also, let me know what tags you think should be added to this based on what you've read. Like... is it Identity Porn? Slow something or other? Etc.
> 
> Okay, who has read the comic, All-Star Superman? It's different from the animated movie... but both made me cry. People are saying Superman died and others are saying he turned into Superman Prime 1,000,000. But then what happened to Lois. Some of these comics never feel complete and they just keep rebooting everything. So what was once canon no longer is canon? But it was still a great story... but I was left confused and very sad. I do not like sad endings... I tend to avoid them, even Romeo and Juliet I would have if not for back when I was in school.
> 
> Sorry for all the rambling. But again, hope you're all well. And your families. And your furbabies. How are your furbabies? If you've got tumblr post some furbaby pics and tag #Trinket. I especially love felines, but love other pets too, but I'm a cat person. I did see a red-winged black bird in the yard earlier in the morning yesterday. Since I started feeing the birds getting a lot more and the seed is going quicker and quicker. Got squirrels too though, so I got some chili powder that I sprinkle since I can't find the already hot seeds or the packet to mix my own. But I love the bird song, so much more than I'm used to outside. Too bad the trees and shrubs saplings I planted last spring didn't make it except for the Colordo Blue Spruce.
> 
> Anyone know a good binocular or camera to reccommend?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you've enjoyed the start of this. I'd love to know what readers think of it thus far. I'd love to know what you speculate might or might not happen next.
> 
> Would you like this to continue?
> 
> Please join as at the [Batsupes Community Discord Server](https://discord.com/invite/3fBFAc8)


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